


Nest in the Attic

by TimmyJaybird



Series: Legacy [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Lots and lots of smut, M/M, Mentions of Tim Jason and Babs, People might eventually die, mentioned TimKon, once again we have a dark slightly unhinged Dick, through out all of this these idiots are in love at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 04:39:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 29,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4508133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick Grayson has watched his family be torn apart, over the years. He was a dead man for more then he'd like to count. And now that he's back, he's taken the one thing he couldn't live without. And he's intent on building a new world for them, a legacy in a city he can call his own.</p><p>And he's more then happy to get his hands bloodied in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Priorities

**Author's Note:**

> So much for Gravity being a stand alone. What have I even done.
> 
> Anything after this fic in this verse is going to be much, much darker. Good luck to anyone who crosses Dick Grayson.

He could have taken Damian again, upon returning to Bludhaven.

He thought about it, but he didn't.

The boy hadn't said a word the entire car ride. He sat with his eyes out the side window, watching trees turn into city streets, watching buildings melt and reform into new ones. Dick wasn't sure how many times Damian had visited Bludhaven- or, if any- and perhaps all these sights were new to him.

He would show him a whole new world, he was sure.

Dick's current safe house was an old one of his, left dormant to exist in dust for too many years. In his time since his return, he had been cleaning it up, making it livable for not only him, but Damian as well.

Building a proper nest, if he was honest.

It was located inside an old church, a small one which had been shut down and _bought out_ years ago. Years before Dick died. Back when he thought it might be smart to have something to fall back on, should anything ever happen. Should he need to disappear from the entire world.

Not that Dick cared very much who knew where he was. He wasn't afraid. _Not anymore_.

The church had an old garage behind it, one car, and Dick pulled inside, killing the engine. For a moment, he sat there in silence, watching as Damian glanced around the small, dark space.

When the teen reached for his seat belt, Dick felt a strange sort of relief. As if he was being given the beginning of approval. He climbed out himself, waiting for Damian to grab his bag, then led him out of the garage, to the old back door of the church. There was a small security code pad next to the door, hidden under a cover that looked like worn brick, which Dick flipped up, entering the code and waiting a moment as the door unlocked.

"How did you put this together so fast?" Damian whispered, following Dick inside. The door shut behind them, automatically locking up.

"I've had this," Dick whispered, "For a long time, little bird. You can thank your daddy's money for it." Damian said nothing, glancing about the main room- what opened up to where the pews still stood, a dusty old alter with nothing on it. The windows were boarded up. Dick gave him a moment, before walking past him, heading towards a narrow staircase off to the side. A moment, and Damian followed, behind him, one hand pressing against the old iron railing.

The second level of the church was small as well. It consisted of only three rooms- a bathroom, an open living area that included a kitchenette towards the back, and what would have been a bedroom. Dick had left a mattress on the floor of the living area, and the once bedroom held instead what could only be considered his one-room version of the cave. Through the half open door, Damian would see a set of screens, but not much else.

"It's not the Manor," Dick admitted, pulling his domino mask off his face and brushing his hair back, "but it can be home." He glanced over at Damian, who had watched him remove the mask, and was staring now. Dick hesitated, watched as he let his bag fall to the floor before taking the few steps to him, reaching up and sinking one hand into his hair, pulling him in for a kiss.

It was slow, a spark of awe from Damian's end, and Dick felt his chest tightening. It hadn't been what he expected.

"I missed you," Damian whispered, into his mouth, his other hand reaching up, splaying against Dick's chest. His fingers flexed against Dick's suit, his mouth finding the corner of Dick's, pressing there again. Dick reached around him, pressing his hand to the small of Damian's back, pulling him in closer, feeling as if by one single touch he somehow held the boy entirely in his palm.

"I missed you too," he breathed, pressing his forehead to Damian's. _More then you'll ever know, little bird_.

*  
Yes, Dick could have taken him again. And he had planned on it, originally. But the tenderness the teen had for him, it changed his mind. He was content to curl himself around Damian in the dark, on the mattress, to run his hands along the curves of his muscles, the boy stripped down to nearly nothing at all. His skin was hot- Damian had always run warm, he remembered. Knew from long nights past when the boy had crawled into his bed without invitation, and curled up against Dick’s chest and slept.

Dick traced his fingers down Damian’s bicep, felt one heavy scar. “Where is it from?”

In the dark, Damian was staring at him, and Dick could just barely make out his eyes. “Riddler set a trap. I answered a question wrong. Flying knife.” Dick nodded, rolling forward on his shoulder, pressing his mouth to the scar.

“How long?”

Damian hummed. “Three years ago? Maybe more.” Dick nodded, kissed it again, before trailing his mouth down. He turned Damian’s arm, kissed the hallow of his elbow, felt soft, tender skin. Further down, and there was a set a thin, jagged scars along Damian’s forearm. Dick paused, glancing up at him. “Not from me,” Damian whispered, as if he was reading Dick’s mind. “Zsasz. Wanted to mark me for the deaths he blamed me for. Thought it would make father angry, to see a reminder that we couldn’t save everyone.” Dick nodded, ran his thumb over one.

“They’re old.”

“It was right after you died...disappeared. I was...reckless.” His thumb trailed over one again, and Damian exhaled. “I was angry.”

“At?”

“Everyone. At the world, for taking you from me.” Damian leaned in, pressed his face into Dick’s shoulder as Dick lifted his arm, kissed one of the thin scars. “Angry at father for not protecting the family. Angry at the family for not protecting you. Angry at...” he exhaled, “At myself, for having no power to stop your death.”

Dick kissed lower, his mouth pressing to Damian’s wrist, feeling his pulse under his tongue. Damian’s breath rushed out, shaky.

“Angry at you, for dying. _For leaving me_.”

Dick glanced up, in the dark, caught the faintest shape of the teen’s eyes, as he glanced up, from Dick’s shoulder. He released his hold on his arm, laying back, falling onto his back on the mattress and pulling Damian over to him, to lay along his body, rest atop him. He buried his hands in the boy’s hair, thumbs stroking his cheeks.

“I came back,” he whispered, “for you, Damian. Only for you.” He guided Damian down, kissed his eyelids as they closed. “And I won’t leave you again.”

“Do not make a promise you cannot keep, Grayson.”

“I won’t,” he breathed, kissing the corner of Damian’s eye. It was wet. “Never to you.”

*

Dick woke with Damian pressed to his chest, an arm tossed over his ribs. The blanket was tangled down around their legs, and from the fogged, aged glass, sun was attempting to push it’s way in. He stared up at the ceiling, letting his hand trace Damian’s spine, the center of his back. The boy shifted, mumbling something to himself, pressing his face to the side of Dick’s body- but otherwise, not waking.

Carefully, Dick lifted the boy’s arm, slipping from his hold. Damian curled up around Dick’s pillow as he stood up, pressing his face into it. For a moment, Dick stared down at him, smiling fondly, before he crept around the room, heading for the far door.

He left it open, settling into a chair, in front of a large desk. It was lined with monitors, the tower to the computer settled off, to the side.

Dick knew, if he was going truly leave the family, if he was going to finally begin doing things _his_ way, he would need his own network. His own information. _His own revenue_. None of that had gone without thought, and even if his main focus the past few days had simply been making this place livable, and acquiring Damian, it hadn’t left his mind.

Information stemmed from networks- yet, information allowed him _to network_ , he knew. He had information. Stored inside his head from endless years on the streets, both in Gotham and Bludhaven. And now, from his years with Spyral. He had the files, too. Hard drives full of Spyral's top clearance files, plus what he had siphoned from the family network. And what he had built himself, during his time in Bludhaven.

What he needed now, was revenue.

Dick folded his arms, leaning back in his chair. On one monitor, was a map of the city, broken down into colored sections- labeling who was in charge of the _financial dealings_ and where. Bludhaven wasn’t as large as Gotham, she didn’t answer to large family and mob units. Smaller, more compact.

But that didn’t mean they didn’t know how to handle the streets. Dick knew it was the opposite. He’d put plenty of them behind bars before. And maybe he’d do it again, if they pissed him off.

Really, he wasn’t interested in that. Not anymore. He was content to let the underbelly of each city seethe and feed. What he wanted, he realized, was simply _a place_. A place without question. Authority. Belonging.

And, the ability to act freely, without limitations.

The gang operating in the southern part of Bludhaven was _new_. They must have broken off from another, Dick thought, sometime during his time away. He would need to get that information. New, fresh blood could be ideal. They would need...protection, in this city.

And what was more terrifying to see free falling from a building in Bludhaven then Nightwing?

 _Except that Nightwing is dead_. Dick sighed, raked a hand back through his hair. He could wear the costume, but he wasn’t that man anymore. And honestly, the costume didn’t even feel right. But it was all he had.

Another thing on the list. _Become someone else_. Preferably with a new costume. A new name.

Dick glanced up when he heard soft footsteps outside his door. He glanced over, saw Damian standing in it, leaning in slightly. His short hair was tussled, his boxer briefs showing off the juts of muscle and bone along his hips. Dick felt the strange urge to bruise them, with his fingertips.

“You’re thinking.” Dick said nothing, as Damian glanced around the room again. “Care to share?”

“Thinking about what I want to do. How I want to do it.” He pushed his chair back, turning, patted his thigh, and Damian walked in, settling down onto Dick’s lap without question. Dick leaned in, brushed his knuckles along the curve of his neck. “How to live again, Dami.”

The teen shivered, tilting his head back onto Dick’s shoulder as the older man kissed his shoulder blade.

“Tell me, do you have any ideas?”

Damian made a little sound, something _needy_ in the back of his throat, as Dick wrapped an arm around him, fingers tracing the curves of the muscles in his belly. “M-maybe,” Damian breathed, as Dick’s fingers dipped all the way down to the waistband of his underwear, just barely beneath it.

“Mmm? Do share, little bird.” Dick dragged his teeth along Damian’s shoulder blade, felt the boy shudder. He wondered if he reacted so openly under anyone else’s touch. It wasn’t expected- but it was most certainly welcome.

Damian pulled from Dick’s touch, twisting out of his lap until he was falling to the ground, on his knees. He turned, slipping between Dick’s thighs, pressing his mouth to his navel, kissing down along the curves of muscle as Dick leaned back. He watched as Damian paused at the hem of Dick’s sweatpants, before rubbing his cheek against his groin, eyelids fluttering when he felt Dick’s cock twitch.

He reminded Dick of a _pet_ , in that moment. Not the silent assassin he had given the Robin mantel to. Not the son of Bruce Wayne. No, a _pet_ , something for Dick to care for, to love. Something that would be loyal to him.

His cock swelled over the thought.

Damian tugged on his waistband, freeing him and wrapping his hand around the base. He stroked up, watching his own hand move, and Dick couldn’t take his eyes away. This was what he had dreamed about, for far longer then he should have. It was more then he could have hoped for.

But here Damian was- run away with him, eager and _willing_ -

And loving.

The teen leaned in, swirled his tongue over the head of Dick’s cock, gathering up the salty precum before he opened his plump lips, sucked Dick in. The older man groaned, tipping his head back, eyes falling shut, as Damian’s hand worked along his shaft. His tongue felt utterly wicked, the way it rolled over his sensitive head.

Behind Dick’s eyelids, he still saw Damian. Saw the glimpses of his grown Robin, images he had dragged up from dreams, what he had put together from news articles- those moments when the media was lucky enough to catch a glimpse of any of the family. He saw his pretty bird in Damian’s own bed, beneath him- the night before, eager and trembling and willing.

He saw him, as he had fallen asleep- all bare skin and bared scars. Truth and secrets, all for Dick to take.

He pushed his hips up, groaning, head beginning to spin. Damian’s other hand was squeezing Dick’s thigh, thumb rubbing little circles into it. In the back of his throat, he was making these little sounds, excitement and eagerness that had Dick’s belly tightening.

“Ah- Damian,” he groaned, gripping at the arms of the chair. The teen gave a low moan, mouth vibrating around Dick’s cock. He pushed up, gasping, feeling so close already- it was almost pathetic, but Dick didn’t care.

This was Damian, this was his little bird, his Robin, his boy. This was Damian willing bringing him off and _enjoying it_.

With a low groan from his chest, Dick came, pushing up into Damian’s mouth again. The boy sucked harder, swallowed everything that spilled over his tongue, only pulling off when Dick’s cock began to go flaccid, as he slumped back in the chair. The teen glanced up, before leaning in, pressing a wet-lipped kiss to Dick’s hip bone, before adjusting his sweatpants and tucking him away. He pushed himself up, slowly, and Dick reached out, caught him by the back of his neck and tugged Damian over him, seeking out his mouth and kissing it.

He was bitter, his lips wet, tongue slick, and Dick lapped at his mouth, along his teeth, licking the evidence away. Damian gave another little sound, before he was pulling back, reaching up to drag two fingers along his own swollen mouth.

“I won’t distract you,” he finally said, even though Dick knew he _knew_ it wasn’t a distraction. He turned on his heel, leaving the room quickly, walking across the small space and into the tiny bathroom. Dick leaned his head back, closed his eyes, could hear the shower when it turned on, the bathroom door left half open.

He had to take a moment to tell himself this was real, and Damian was here. That this wasn’t jut another dream, that he’d wake from, only to be a dead man again.

Dick told himself he was done being a dead man.

*

Dick sat atop the shipping container, concealed by the shadows as he watched the deal going down before him. He needed to know about this new gang that had taken up in the south side of Bludhaven- and what better way to learn then to observe.

Below, there was a woman opening a large duffle bag, sifting through its contents. She had half a head of obnoxious green hair, the rest nothing but blonde stubble. Flashy leaders, making statements. Someone was definitely fresh blood.

Dick didn’t mind.

He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but that didn’t matter. He read her body language- and she held herself well. The men at her side traded off another bag, before they turned, heading back towards their car. He leaned forward, trying to get a better look at the other half of the dealers- whoever had provided whatever was in that bag. Dick assumed drugs, a fairly safe bet in Bludhaven. Especially in the neighborhoods this new gang would be taking up. He’d like to know what _kind_ , was he dealing with the usual, or something new?

But his possible lead was gone before he could get a good look. Still, this was a start. He’d make a point to hack into the Bludhaven PD network, see if there were files on this new gang. Was the woman he saw a ranking boss, or simply a head dealer? He needed to know who he’d be dealing with.

He stood up, was about to turn to leave, when he felt it, that undeniable feeling at the base of his spine, that someone was _there_.

He didn’t turn around.

“Pretty far from home, Bruce.” He waited, heard the sounds of his boots as he dropped down onto the shipping container, walking towards Dick. Dick closed his eyes, felt the man’s presence behind him, the way he was like a heated shadow.

“Where is he?”

“Who?” He knew Bruce was scowling. Knew each and every move the man would make.

“ _Damian_.” Ah, so not even _Robin_? Dick could appreciate Bruce cutting right to the point.

“Safe,” he offered, “that’s all you need to know.”

Bruce reached out, gripped Dick’s shoulder, squeezing tightly. Threatening. “You _kidnapped_ my son-“

“I didn’t kidnap anyone!” Dick spun around, knocking Bruce’s hand off his shoulder. “He came willingly. He could have stayed, could have said no at any moment. Everything with Damian has been _wanted_.” The lines around Bruce’s frown deepened, and Dick thought perhaps the man was understanding that there was more to this. That there was more then Dick simply moving the boy from one city to another.

“He missed you, while you were gone.” Bruce reached out, placed both his hands on Dick’s shoulders- gently now. An attempt at affection. “We all did. I didn’t _want_ to have to put you through that, Dick. But you were the only choice.”

Dick shrugged his shoulders, trying to work Bruce’s grip off him. “It doesn’t matter now, _Bruce_. What’s done is done. You made your choices- now I’m making mine.”

“Don’t do this.” Bruce stepped back, allowing Dick his space. “Bring Damian home. Come back to Gotham. The family...we’ll work through whatever it is that’s haunting you, Dick.”

Dick grinned. He felt a laugh bubbling in his throat, and he let it free, a dark chuckle as he tilted his head slightly to one side. “Haunting me? Oh, Bruce. Bruce, Bruce, Bruce. Nothing is _haunting me_. Not now. The only thing that did- well, he’s waiting for me now, _eagerly_ , I’m sure.”

Bruce’s lip twitched, and Dick knew he’d hit a nerve. “He’s my _son_ , Dick.”

“So was I.” Dick folded his arms. “But family can change, Bruce. Time changes people. And maybe it’s time we moved on to being something _other_ then your precious children.” Bruce glared at him, and then without a word turned, stalking off towards the opposite end of the crate. He disappeared with a wave of his cape, dropping down off the edge.

Dick didn’t follow, or really care to see where Bruce was going. He’d be back, he knew. Dick hadn’t ever thought that he would be able to break off and not confront the man. Especially not when he chose to take Bruce’s youngest son with him.

*

Dick let himself into his safe house, inhaling the smell of dust, of wet age in the lower level of the church. There were no lights on, and it was nearly black, a few slivers of light from the sky coming in through tiny cracks in a few of the boarded windows. There was something peaceful about it, this place. This decay. As if he was embracing some sort of end, some final point where he should be uncomfortable- but instead, it became his. He could hold this limbo of pre-death in his arms, and it would love him back.

He made his way up the stairs, into the living quarters. It was dark, as well, and he found Damian sprawled out on the mattress, sleeping. A glance at the clock told Dick it was after two AM- which was early, were they on the family’s patrol schedule.

Dick had no schedule. He would come and go as he pleased.

But he knew for Damian to be sleeping, for a second night in a row at this time, it must be strange. But surely needed. He settled down on his knees, next to the bed, reaching out to stroke his gloved fingers through Damian’s hair. The boy shifted, sighing, not rolling over to face him, but whispering, “What time is it?”

“After two,” Dick whispered, fingers moving down to the nape of Damian’s neck, then between his bare shoulders. The teen shivered, gently, leaning back into the touch. Dick smiled softly, pulling his hand back only to grip Damian’s shoulder, to gently roll him onto his back. He stared up, pretty eyes somehow now hazy from sleep, and Dick reached for his cheek, thumb rubbing along it gently, before his hand traveled down his neck. He traced a bruise he had left behind, before moving lower, feeling the jut of his collar bone. Damian was silent, unmoving in Dick’s exploration, until his gloved thumb was rubbing a circle into his nipple, and the teen was arching, slightly, a breath escaping him.

“Come here,” Damian whispered, and Dick leaned closer. He reached up, fingers carefully pulling the domino mask from his face. He dropped it to the floor, before his hands went back through Dick’s hair. “I had Nightwing last night,” Damian whispered, “I don’t want him tonight.”

“Nightwing is dead.”

“Exactly. I don’t want a dead man. I want Grayson. _You_.” He leaned up, pressing his forehead to Dick’s, as the older man’s hand moved down, finding his waist and holding it. “Whatever name you have doesn’t matter. But I don’t want a mask. Not tonight.”

Dick nodded, slowly, as Damian tipped his head back, allowed Dick to kiss him. Gently, slowly, a sweetness to it that had Dick’s stomach in knots with affection. Whatever he felt towards the world, whatever anger there was at having to give up his life, his family, his very name- he felt none of it towards this boy.

He could never hate Damian, as long as he lived.

“I’ll be back,” Dick whispered, pulling from his mouth, giving Damian’s waist a gently squeeze. “Wait for me.” Damian nodded, watched as Dick stood up, crossed the small room towards the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Dick stripped of his suit, leaving it strewn around the bathroom. He ran the shower hot, to the point that it left his skin tinged pink, as he washed away the night air, the sweat, the filth that came from their _job_.

Once he was done, he toweled off, opening the door and stepping out completely naked, as he worked the towel over his hair. Damian was sitting back against the pillows, the sheets pooling around his waist. The moment he saw Dick, he squirmed, looking somehow so small in that moment, despite that he was technically taller then Dick now. Dick smiled at him, crossing the room, dropping the towel and crawling over his legs, wrapping an arm around Damian’s shoulders and pulling him in for a kiss.

Damian felt cool against him. Damian, who ran hot, who had once felt like a tiny furnace in Dick’s bed, when he had been a child and crawled in. Back when he was innocent, when Dick was a different man, when the boy was his brother, not his lover. _When he was a boy_.

Call him that all he wanted, Dick wasn’t kissing a boy in that moment. Not with the way Damian pressed his mouth back, tilted his head perfectly, let Dick’s chest drag against his own.

“You’re...warm,” he breathed, and Dick smiled, grabbing at the sheet and tugging on it. He pulled it down Damian’s thighs, smile turning to a grin when he noticed Damian had removed his underwear, left them balled up on the floor.

“And you’re...eager,” Dick teased, tracing hot fingertips along Damian’s thighs. Damian shifted, spreading them, so that Dick was forced to straddle one as he caressed the opposite. The teen exhaled, watching Dick’s face, the way his eyes darted down along his torso, looking at the scars again. So many to learn.

“So are you,” Damian breathed, reaching one hand out, tracing the curve of Dick’s hip. “We have a lot of time to make up for.”

Dick groaned, surging forward, pressing his mouth to Damian’s again. He took him in hand as he kissed him, thumb teasing his slit, dragging pre-cum down along his length as Damian shuddered once, squeezing the jut of his hip. Dick smiled against his teeth, squeezing once. “What do you want?” he whispered.

Damian licked at Dick’s lips, hand leaving his hip and grasping his cock, squeezing once. “You,” he breathed, then, after dragging his teeth along Dick’s lips, “To fuck me like you’ll never get the chance to again.”

Dick’s eyes rolled back as the teen nudged under his chin, sucked against his throat, leaving a tiny bruise behind as he stroked him. Dick had lost his rhythm for a moment, focusing on Damian’s mouth, the sweet stinging-pain of the suction, the way his hand gave him that perfect friction he needed. His belly tightened, once, body clenching, and _god_ he could get off on just knowing the kid’s desire.

Still, he batted Damian’s hand away, determined to give him exactly what he wanted. He laid him back into the pillows, removing himself from the mattress to walk across the room, open a counter drawer and rummage around, before returning, little bottle clutched in his hand. When he returned, it was between Damian’s thighs, wetting his fingers with the lube before setting the bottle aside, on the floor. Damian exhaled, and as Dick pushed two fingers into his body, he felt him tense, watched him wince, slightly.

His fingers stilled, only the tips inside him, as Dick stroked one of Damian’s scarred thighs. “Little bird,” he whispered, and Damian exhaled again, relaxing a little around him. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m okay,” he whispered, color rising on his cheeks, “Just...sore. From the other night.” Dick frowned, pulling his hand back, fingertips removed from Damian’s body.

“Then this can wait.” The teen shook his head, pushing himself up and reaching out, grasping Dick’s wrist, keeping him from pulling away further.

“No, please. I-“ Damian licked his lips, looking impossibly young for a moment, with those large blue eyes, the flush on his cheeks. “I want you to. Please, Grayson.”

“There will be other nights.” He leaned forward, pressed his mouth to Damian’s forehead. “I never want to hurt you, Dami. Never.” He hadn’t realized he had been that rough with the boy- or, more accurately, hadn’t thought that the boy’s body wouldn’t be used to that sort of assault. He couldn’t forget this was Damian, and whatever sexual experience he’d had, Dick could only make assumptions on what he had done alone.

He’d never been good with people.

“Yes, there will,” Damian agreed, “But there is tonight, as well.” He guided Dick’s hand back towards him, and the older man allowed it, pressing his slick fingertips against his hole again. “Please.”

Dick sighed, kissing Damian’s forehead again, as he pressed once more into his body. This time, Damian stayed far more relaxed, and Dick pushed slowly, until his fingers were entirely inside him. He moved them slowly, pulling back enough to watch the way Damian’s eyelids fluttered, lips parting as he breathed.

“It’s...it’s better, when you do it,” the teen whispered, and Dick smiled softly, fondly. He pried his fingers apart, forcing the muscle to stretch more, and Damian’s thighs tried to stretch wider.

“I can go as slow as you want me to,” he reassured, leaning down, pressing his mouth to Damian’s throat. He curled his fingers, felt the boy jerk a bit, his breath hiss out, the pained sound ending with a moan as Dick’s fingers found and pressed along his prostate. “I can stop at any point.”

“Don’t stop,” Damian breathed, the color rising more in his cheeks, along his neck as he squirmed, as Dick continued to massage that point inside him. “Just...just...”

“Slow,” Dick finished, closing his mouth over a bruise he had sucked into Damian’s neck the prior night, laving his tongue over it, soothing. The boy tipped his head back, shaking as Dick moved to slow, lazy thrusts, ending with a few presses to his sweet spot, before resuming. The pattern was maddening, sweet and teasing and so utterly perfect that Damian found he was having trouble breathing, breaths coming in pants, chest rising and falling so quickly he was getting dizzy.

Dick pulled from his neck, covering his mouth with his own, felt the boy inhale violently through his nose, as Dick pressed along that spot.

“Shhh,” he whispered against his mouth, “breathe slowly, little prince.” Damian whined, and Dick kissed him again, cutting off his breath for a moment. When he pulled back, Damian sucked in a deep breath, and Dick took his free hand, pressing it against his chest, pushing down slowly to ease it out of him, as his fingers continued to thrust lazily in and out of his body. “I want you to stay with me.”

Damian nodded, trying to focus on his breathing- finding it hard when his abused nerves were awake now, crying out for more, for Dick to fill him, to press his weight over him. His cock was aching, flushed, leaking a wet smear along his belly, and his fingers flexed in the sheets, fighting the urge to reach for it, to stroke himself, get himself off with just Dick’s fingers inside him. He bit at his cheek, squeezing his eyes shut as Dick pressed a third finger into him, the thrusts remaining slow, lazy. Slowly, he exhaled, and Dick smiled.

“That’s it. Good boy.” A kiss to his temple, then, “Do you want me now, Damian?” The teen nodded, swallowing down a whine as Dick pulled his fingers out, reaching for the bottle on the floor and squeezing lube down onto his cock. Damian scrambled up, reaching forward before Dick could, stroking it over his length, watching as Dick let his head fall back for a moment as that hand worked him in a way it should not have known.

Damian was in tune with him, Dick was sure. It was exquisite and terrifying, and he could get drunk on the idea alone.

Damian sucked on his tongue, forcing himself to pull his hand away, leaning back, as Dick grabbed his thighs, pulling them up so they could curl around his hips. With one hand, he eased his cock into Damian- just the head, felt the boy shiver, once, heard him exhale, shaky.

“You’re alright,” he whispered, one hand squeezing the boy’s raised hips. Damian’s entirely lower back was arched off the mattress, to meet Dick’s body where he knelt between his thighs. Slowly, he continued to push into the boy, until Damian was pressed snugly to him, and Dick could feel the way his body clenched around him, once, trembling.

“G-Grayson,” he breathed, shoulders digging into the mattress. His neck would ache, he knew, if he stayed like this long. He didn’t care. Instead he squeezed his legs around Dick, trying to shift his hips. Dick shook his head, hands running along his thighs, until they eased their hold on him, until Dick felt his body relaxing.

Damian rubbed his hands along the sheets, biting at his lip to keep from squirming. And he was rewarded, when, a moment later, Dick rocked his hips slowly, the shallow thrust at least giving Damian some sort of sensation. The boy gasped, tried to squirm again, to add to the thrusts, but Dick shook his head.

“Be still, little bird,” he whispered, “Let me do this. I won’t have you hurting yourself, all because you’re a little too _eager_.” Damian squeezed his eyes shut, tried to focus on his breathing, as Dick moved with slow, lazy thrusts. They felt _good_ , had him panting through his mouth, but a part of him was so desperate for this man that he wanted more, wanted Dick to fuck him raw, until he was sobbing.

This ease, this slowness- it was terrifying. It was tender. It was everything he _had_ wanted, but Damian couldn’t admit.

Damian tossed his head, his neck aching from the angle, as Dick continued to rub his thighs, feeling the boy clench around him. All trembling muscles and little, broken sounds. When Dick caught a glimpse of his closed eyes, there were tears in the corner. From the need for release, or something more, Dick wasn’t entirely sure.

Dick leaned over him, folding his body more, pushing in deeper, and Damian cried out. The movement allowed Dick to grab one of his hands, and as he eased back, he placed it over Damian’s cock, guided the boy’s fingers around his own shaft. “Come on little bird,” he whispered, “Make yourself feel good.”

Damian’s breaths came ragged as he stroked, as Dick continued that slow, easy thrust into him. His nerves were awake, _alive_ , and Dick felt so good, so perfect. He stretched him just enough, his tenderness kept the remaining ache in his body low, easily hidden by the way his cock brushed along his prostate, dragging back so slowly Damian was sure he was going utterly mad. He bit the inside of his cheek, listened to the man above him, squeezing his cock, stroking himself. For the first few movements, he tried to match Dick’s thrusts, to keep himself in check-

But _god_ , he couldn’t. Damian tossed his head again, shuddering, hand speeding up. “C-can’t help it,” he whispered, pushing up into his hand, then back down on Dick’s cock. This time, the man didn’t stop him- he only smiled, fondness and affection, those pretty eyes staring at Damian like he was the entire earth.

“Good,” Dick whispered, the word a moan as he slid back into Damian’s body. “I want you to feel good, Damian.” Damian choked, groaning, arching further back onto his aching shoulder blades, losing all rhythm entirely as his hand jerked up along his length, twisted over the head of his cock. His breathing escalated again, and he was dizzy in moments, spinning out of control, only aware of Dick’s hands on his thighs- holding now, gripping. Keeping him at steady as possible.

His mouth was open, moving, and Damian realized he was muttering something, crying it almost, over and over again. He could barely hear past the hammering of his blood in his temples. The way every nerve in his body seemed to connect into one, right into the core of his belly as it tightened, relaxed, tightened again-

He heard a scream, realized it was _him_ , realized he’d been repeating _Grayson_ over and over again, like a broken prayer to a dead god. His orgasm washed over him then, waves heavy and hot, and he felt Dick’s fingers pressing harder into his thighs, heard the man whispering to him, _Dami, Dami, my little prince_ , and he sobbed, openly, trying to find breath, air, anything at all.

When it subsided, Damian went lump, head tilting back as much as possible, staring wide eyed up at the dark ceiling, as his body jostled with each of Dick’s thrusts. In the aftermath of his orgasm, his body was soft, relaxed, and Dick felt safer here, with the tension gone. As if Damian’s body were safe from harm now.

“I...can stop,” Dick breathed, staring down at the boy’s body, the long pearly splashes on his torso, his cock which was shockingly still flushed, still rather swollen.

“Please...don’t...” Damian didn’t crane his neck, didn’t try to look at him. He continued to stare up, as if he could see beyond the ceiling, the roof, the stars. He felt _high_ , like he was floating. The ache in his neck was forgotten. The ache in his core was a memory.

But Dick’s voice, the feeling of his hot skin- _that_ was there, in that moment. Something for Damian to cling to, as he tried to ground himself. Clung to the feeling od Dick thrusting slightly faster now, into his body, the way his nerves seemed to have _reset_ , and _god_ it was working him up again.

Dick growled, low in his chest, gritting his teeth as he tried to keep himself in check. The urge was there, to be rough, like the previous night. The end result was a sweet promise, but Dick knew he could achieve it and still keep himself at this pace. He felt a trickle of sweat along his spine, tickling the small of his back, as Damian shifted, rolling back on his shoulder blades again, allowing a different angle. His body gripped Dick tighter this way, and the older man gasped, losing his rhythm for a moment.

The boy smiled. “Come on Grayson,” he breathed, even though his words were quiet, there was a tremble to his voice. Dick knew he was trying to hide it. The cocky smile wasn’t fooling him. “Don’t tell me I don’t feel good enough to make you _come_.”

Dick groaned, panting as he spoke. “Little bird, your mouth is enough for that.”

“I know.” Damian groaned, as Dick managed still to hit that sweet spot inside him, his blood running hot again in his veins. “I proved that earlier.” Dick shuddered, and Damian sucked on his own tongue, fighting down the little sounds bubbling up in his throat. “We can do that,” he whispered, around another groan, “more-often. To keep you...focused...when you’re...planning.” Each few words were broken by his body being jostled, by a moan.

Dick snapped his hips forward, hard, and Damian gave a loud cry, as the older man cursed under his breath. Damian’s body clenched around him, and Dick let his eyes roll, eyelids fluttering shut as he jerked his hips forward, before stilling, filling Damian’s body.

The boy shuddered, rubbing his hands along the sheets again, giving a loud whine as Dick pulled out, as Damian’s body fell limp to the mattress. The boy was panting, gasping, and Dick stared down at him, quirking up an eyebrow when he realized that Damian was still hard.

He reached a hand out, carefully tracing his index finger up along the underside of his cock. Damian nearly yelped, body jerking, and Dick smiled. “You’re not satisfied yet.” Damian said nothing, cheeks flushed, and Dick could admit, he was rather _impressed_ that Damian was ready to go again. He wouldn’t have expected that from anyone.

Carefully, he lowered himself to the mattress, on his belly, between Damian’s legs. He got the boy to hook his knees up over his shoulders, and carefully he rolled his hips back, arching his ass off the bed, so that Dick could grasp it. He didn’t give the teen a moment to even process, instead leaned in as he parted flesh, pressed his mouth to Damian’s red ring of muscle. His tongue moved slowly, lapping up over it, hot and wet, and Damian shuddered, making a small, broken sound.

Dick could never have dreamed up the sounds Damian made for him.

He chuckled to himself, tracing the abused muscle, careful to keep his kisses soothing, soft. Damian was already wet, tasted bitter- and Dick felt a strange jolt of excitement, over the fact that he could taste himself inside the boy. He pressed his tongue past the muscle, and Damian shuddered, a hand scrambling from the bed, wrapping around himself for the second time that night. Dick heard the movement over his skin, felt him push up into his hand, before back down against his mouth.

He pulled back for a moment, exhaled over the wet flesh, before leaning back in again, lapping faster. He felt Damian’s heels dig in next to his shoulder blades, the boy’s breath sob out of him, and knew, _knew_ he’s climaxed again. Proof came a moment later when Damian went limp again, like a doll, and Dick pulled away, allowing the boy’s legs to fall to the mattress. He stared down at him, before leaning forward, kissing his abdomen, before his tongue dragged up along one warm slash of cum. Damian exhaled, shaking, as Dick licked him utterly clean.

The taste in his mouth was a complimenting mix, bitter yes, but his own had an almost sweetness to it- Damian’s, something else. Herbal like. Muting his own. _Dick liked it_.

Finally, Dick lay down next to Damian, tossing an arm across his ribs, pulling the boy in against him. He nuzzled his hair, kissed his temple, and Damian turned, managed to catch the corner of his mouth. The boy’s eyes were glossy, pretty, too blue.

Dick said nothing, only squeezed him closer, pressing his face into his hair, allowing himself to enjoy the fact that he was real, and for a second night, he was in his arms.

Where he had always belonged.

*

Dick opened his eyes to harsh slivers of sunlight. One happened to fall across his face, and he cussed, rolling over, burying his face in the pillow next to him. It took a moment for him to realize there should have been a body there, and he pushed himself up, hurriedly looking around the room. He couldn’t see Damian, but a moment later and he heard the creak of his computer chair, the sound of typing.

He pushed himself up, grabbed a pair of sweat pants he’d left on the floor, and stepped into them, making his way towards his little control room. Inside, he found Damian folded up in the chair, eyes glued to one of the monitors.

“What are you doing?” he asked, and Damian didn’t even look at him.

“Police Reports. There’s a lot to sift through. Is this the right territory parameters for the new gang you were looking into?” He pointed to another monitor, and Dick peered at it, leaning an arm on the back of the chair.

“Yes.”

“There’s a lack of reported incidents in that area, in the past six weeks.” Dick leaned a little closer, looking over Damian’s shoulder. “Unless this gang is keeping peace, they have friends in the police.”

“Or money.”

“Interchangeable.” Damian flipped tabs, pulling up a few traffic cameras. “I pulled footage starting an hour prior to when you returned. I don’t exactly know what to be looking for, Grayson. But I know you will want to take a look.”

Dick grinned, leaning over the chair and kissing Damian’s temple. “My little babybat,” he breathed, and Damian batted him away.

“Don’t call me that.”

Dick quirked up a brow. “And why not? I always used to.” Damian frowned, flipping back to the police reports.

“Because. I’m not a bat. Not...anymore.” He glanced up at Dick. “Isn’t that what you’re making sure of, by keeping me here? That I’m no longer part of the family.”

This time, Dick frowned. “I’m not keeping you here. You can leave, whenever you want.” Damian held Dick’s stare for a moment, before turning back to the monitors. He pulled up the traffic camera footage, running it at four times its regular speed.

“What am I looking for?” he asked, completely ignoring Dick’s statement. The fact that he hadn’t gotten up and walked out that moment was confirmation enough to Dick of Damian’s consent to living there.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Dick admitted, reaching down and absentmindedly teasing his fingers along Damian’s shoulder. The boy clicked his tongue, but said nothing. There wasn’t much traffic, not at that early hour. A few cars, a patrolling cop car-

“Pause.” Damian obeyed, pausing the tape, and Dick walked around the chair, leaning in. The footage was grainy, but he saw a mess of green hair next to the driver, and that _had_ to be her. “Slow down the speed a bit.” Damian did, playing the footage again. Dick watched the car turn at the light, then disappear. “What other cameras have we got?”

“Give me a second.” Damian leaned forward, clicking through his options. “Nothing close.”

“They were going _North_.” Dick tapped his fingers, pointing to one of the possible video feeds. “That one. It’s on Main St. If they kept in a fairly straight path North, they’ll have to cross here.”

Damian played it, speeding up the footage, and after a few minutes Dick pointed. They watched the same car disappear down the road, and Dick straightened up.

“Doesn’t make any sense. That isn’t their territory. And if they’re fresh blood, they can’t be moving in on someone else’s already.” Damian leaned back in the chair, folding his arms.

“Maybe it’s time to have a face to face conversation,” he pointed out, and Dick shook his head.

“I can’t. I’m not anyone right now, Damian. Nightwing-“

“You’re so goddamn set on Nightwing being _dead_.” The teen huffed. “So bring him back. Be the walking dead. Let it terrify them. That’s what you’re looking for- isn’t it? You want to scare them, Grayson.” He paused, before adding, “You want to scare us all.”

Dick had no argument to offer.

*

Dick had wanted to keep Damian in the safe house again that night, but the teen refused. He had no costume, no existence to suddenly assume, and Dick felt strange moving next to him when the boy was in jeans and his black hoodie. At least he had those boots.

Dick had secured one of his spare domino masks on his face. He refused to let him out as Damian Wayne. Even if he couldn’t be Robin.

They were perched atop a run down apartment building, in the heart of the southside. Below them, there was a very blatant sale going down, small baggies being exchanged for cash. They had been up at the particular corner for twenty minutes now, watched _six_ different deals.

“He’s proficient,” Damian offered, and Dick gripped the ledge.

“It’s like clockwork. A set schedule. He’s definitely not afraid of the police stepping in.”

“So, police payoffs. Not unheard of...Nightwing.” Dick glanced at Damian, then back down.

“With fresh blood? How did they get those funds. Something isn’t right. Stay here.” He stood, tossing himself from the ledge without a second thought, shooting off a hook and flipping before he landed. Above him, Damian huffed.

Dick was forever a show off.

Dick stared the man down, who turned at the commotion, his face going pale. Sickly so. As if he had seen a ghost.

Dick smiled, the kind that curved his mouth just a bit too much, brought in shadows along his cheekbones. He walked towards the man, reaching out and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. “I need a few words with you.”

“You’re...not real,” the guy said, “Nightwing died a whole lotta years ago dude.” Dick inclined his head, as behind him, Damian dropped down, landing in a crouch, bracing himself with one hand. The pavement bit into his palm, and silently, he cursed himself for not finding some sort of gloves to wear.

“Then you’re seeing a ghost. Now, I need you to take me home.” The guy blinked, confused, and Dick pulled him in closer. “Where you people call home. There’s a green haired woman- I need to meet her.”

“Cin? I can’t just-“ Dick pushed him out, holding him at arm’s length for a moment, turning back to look at Damian, who was watching.

He didn’t comment on the fact that he had disobeyed. Didn’t comment on the fact that it might be dangerous for him out there, in that moment. All he did was _smile_.

“Hear that little bird? He _can’t_.” Dick turned back to him. “Well. What a shame. Be I really don’t have a use for toys that aren’t practical.” Dick tossed him, too easily, so the man stumbled back, falling against the trunk of a car. Dick closed the gap, _too quickly_ , bringing his elbow down into the man’s belly. The guy tried to double up, gasping, and Dick grabbed him by his hair, slamming his head back down on the car. Damian heard the impact of the back of his skull on metal.

He didn’t approach.

“Now, tell me again,” Dick said, “That you _can’t_.” The guy coughed, and Dick dragged him up, punching up into the hollow of his ribs, before turning him, chucking him towards the pavement. The guy stumbled, fell, head smacking the sidewalk this time.

Damian moved then, rolling him over onto his back. There was a rough abrasion on his forehead, from the pavement. His pupils were dilated.

“Last chance to talk,” Dick offered, “before I get a little pissed off.”

“Downtown,” the guy coughed, “Stella’s lounge. Cin’s...there. Every Tuesday night. She...she’s got business...” he coughed, and Damian noticed there was blood.

Dick nodded, turned as the guy went limp. Damian checked for a pulse- found it, and exhaled. Just unconscious. He dragged him up, turning him so he was sitting against the car, before opening his jacket, rummaging around the insides. He found various little baggies, filled with pills, powders- even a few vials. Damian plucked one of everything, stashing them in his hoodie, before he stood up, noticed Dick was already shooting a hook up, riding to the rooftop.

Damian rushed over, fidgeting around under his hoodie. He had a hook shot holstered and hooked to his jeans, but it was different with the bulky hoodie in the way. He managed, though, riding it up, pulling himself onto the ledge-

A moment later, Dick’s gloved hands were on his shoulders, pulling him away from the ledge, mouth finding his, kissing him. Damian went wide eyed, before falling into the man’s body, forgetting whatever words he’d had on his tongue.

“I have a bike,” Dick offered, “Stashed, two blocks away. We’ll take it.” Damian nodded, before glancing back over his shoulder, down at the street.

“Should we...call the cops, for him? Or an ambulance?” Dick glanced over the side, quiet for a moment, then,

“No. Leave him. Let the city care for its own.” He turned, making his way across the roof. Damian hesitated, thinking the man had a concussion, possibly some bleeding internally-

But ultimately, he followed after Dick.

*

Dick liked the way Damian clung to him, on the bike. The way his body pressed up to him, his face into his shoulder. Neither wore a helmet, but Dick had only stashed the bike, and nothing else. There wasn’t much choice.

Stella’s Lounge was downtown. It had barely been a blip on any radar when Dick had first been in Bludhaven. Now, it seemed, as they sped past it, to loop around and hide the bike a street over, it had become something. The neon sign that advertised the name was almost nauseating, bright pinks and yellows.

In Dick’s first life in the city, it had been a club. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was, now.

“I could do this alone,” Dick offered, sliding the bike into the shadows. Damian frowned, folding his arms.

“Why have me in your city if you will not let me join you?” Dick said nothing, although he could think of a thousand reasons for Damian to be in Bludhaven.

Mainly, because he simply _was_ Dick’s, and the man couldn’t handle not having him physically close. Not after so long.

Dick didn’t argue, though, and motioned for Damian to follow him. They cut up and across a building, to the back alley behind the club. The backdoor was easily picked, and the two crept in, along the shadows of the back storage room.

The moment they were inside, their skulls vibrated with the thumping bass of the music. Dick realized it was _definitely_ still a dance club, but that could work to their advantage. Low lights. Drunk civilians.

Hopefully, distracted targets.

Dick held his hand up, pausing Damian behind him, glancing around the corner. They had opened to a small hallway, bathrooms and then an open space which kept flashing with colored lights. That was the dance floor, the bar area. Dick would bet anything on it.

He hoped the lights were low enough. Otherwise, he’d stick out, he was sure. Still, he inhaled, then moved again, Damian following suit, until they were in the open.

It _was_ dark. The only light came from far across the wide room, at the bar, and the lights that flickered down from the ceiling, bright, changing colors. Next to Dick, Damian clicked his tongue, though he could barely hear it.

“So-“

“Up or downstairs,” Dick said, “Private rooms. That would be my best guess.” Damian nodded, eyes darting around. Past the dance floor, on the far end, the bar and a small sitting area had what looked like the bulge of an enclosed stair case. Damian pointed, and Dick nodded.

“So-“

“We just walk over.” Damian sucked on his lip. Part of him was startled that Dick was answering his questions as he had barely formed them, before he could speak them. But another part of him, in his gut, knew the man could read him, easily.

They moved, past bodies that paid no attention to a man in a skin tight suit, or one with his hood drawn. If anyone cared about their masks, they said not a word. It was the only point Dick could give to the nightlife-

No one gave a shit at all.

They moved to the stairwell, opening the door and sliding in. Dark as well, lit by small green lights along the crease of wall-to-ceiling, and along the shapes of the stairs. Dick moved first, Damian a step behind him, until they reached the top and Dick opened that door, the two of them spilling out in a hallway, much quieter then downstairs- dark, again with those green lights.

“Hey, you authorized to be up here?” A large man had been settled in a plush chair, and was pushing himself up, stalking towards them. Dick moved before Damian even thought to speak, grabbing the man and delivering a nerve strike against his neck- and then, for good measure, as he began to collapse, grabbed his head and smashed it directly into his knee. He left him crumpled on the floor, motioning for Damian to follow, as he moved to one of the doors in the hallway.

He opened it, to nothing but a black, silent room. Damian glanced over his shoulder, before moving across the hall, opening that one-

And pausing, eyes going wide. The center of the room had a man kneeling, blindfolded, his arms stretched up over his head, hooked with leather straps to the ceiling. Damian took a step back, as Dick appeared behind him, leaning in and chuckling in his ear.

“Not the fun we’re looking for,” he whispered, grabbing the door and closing it as a woman came into view, face hidden by a large, hideous mask.

It was gone before Damian could see the details.

“What the hell is this place,” he whispered, following Dick to the next room, which was empty as the first.

“A plethora of things.” He paused at the last door, as Damian pressed in close behind him. “I have a feeling we’re dealing with a jack of all trades, here. Without another word, he shoved the door in, taking a step into the room, watching as the few occupants, settled into a plush chairs around a table, jerked their heads up to stare at him.

“Who the fuck,” one of them, a guy, boring, run-of-the-mill, started, before he was waving his hand, and two large men walked up from the shadows. Dick was moving before they had a chance, charging one and grabbing his arm, flipping him with an ease that shouldn’t have come, these men had a good few inches on him and more weight then Damian cared to think about.

But Dick was smiling, turning and kicking the other in his side, slamming the heel of his hand up into the man’s jaw before he could get to his gun. Smiling, because this was _fun_.

He turned, kicked the fallen man in the head as he tried to push himself up, hard enough that he went limp, before turning back to the other, crabbing him in a choke hold for a moment, before he was scaling his body, forcing him down with his weight, a hand buried in his short hair. He smashed his head down into the floor, and he, too, went limp.

Dick glanced up, at the small group around the table, and at the center sat his green haired woman. She lifted her hands, clapping slowly, red lips parting into a grin.

“Well, what a show.” Dick pushed himself up, standing, and she pushed her chair back, standing up as well. “I do love a live show.” Around her, the table had tensed, but she didn’t seem to notice. Or perhaps she simply didn’t care. “Well, come in, after an entrance like that. I assume you’ve got a purpose, _Nightwing_.”

“You know who I am.”

“I know you’re dead.” Dick said nothing, and she folded her arms. “And dead men are very, _very_ interesting.”

Dick stared at her, for a moment, before he walked towards the table. Behind him, Damian advanced, taking up the space behind his left shoulder.

“What’s fresh blood like you doing in a city like this?” She smiled- Cin, Dick kept telling himself, and wondered if she had _earned that name_.

“Paving paths for larger things. What’s a dead man doing back in the shadows?” She sat back down, in her chair, glancing at the two other men that had joined her at the table. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she waved them off. “Out.”

“But, business-“

“Can wait. Best go find yourself some new bodyguards. These two will be out cold for a time.” She smiled, and Dick noticed her teeth had been filed. A mouthful of sharp points made her almost lizard like.

The two men glanced at each other, before both got up, hurrying from the room. Once they were gone, Cin settled back, keeping her eyes on Dick and Damian. She kept her arms folded, long red nails tapping against her bare arms.

“So tell me, are you the real Nightwing, or simply someone new trying on an old suit? Because you move just like all the videos I’ve seen. Like what I remember when I was a kid here in Bludhaven.” He could just see the points of her sharp teeth, and somehow, that glimpse was a challenge.

Without looking at Damian, Dick reached up, tugging his domino mask off, letting it drop to the table. He he felt Damian’s eyes moving to him, staring into him- but he ignored them. For now.

Across from him, Cin smiled. “So, Dick Grayson lives, then. Does your batdaddy know?”

“I have no ties to Batman. Not now.” He could still feel Damian’s eyes. “Bludhaven is my city. And there’s no bat here.”

Cin laughed, grating slightly, like rubbing against scales the wrong way. “Well now, _this_ is interesting indeed. Little birdie _finally_ flying the coop. And what is that with you- did you get a bird of your own?” Dick glanced at Damian, who was scowling, his own teeth bared. He reached over, placing a hand on the small of his back.

Soothing.

“You’re talking with me, not him.” Cin pursed her lips.

“Very well. Let’s talk, _Grayson_.” Dick pulled his hand from Damian’s back, settling both flat on the table.

“I want to know what you’re dealing in. Where it comes from. Why you’ve been heading North, when the South is new territory. I want to know who you are. And who you work for.”

Cin chuckled, reaching out to tap her nails along the arms of her chair now. “To what end? What purpose does this serve for you? Looking to clean up your pretty streets?”

“No.” Dick smiled, then, the kind of smirk that cast too much shadow along his face. That made him seem to melt. “I want in.”

Damian fully turned to stare at him. Dick glanced at him, but said nothing. The look was enough- _later_.

It would be a lesson in patience.

Damian wasn’t sure he’d pass.

“Well now, how interesting. And what would you offer me, if I let you in? Hmmm?”

“You wouldn’t have to deal with me, to start.” Cin laughed, again, that grating sound. Dick smiled through it.

“Paying for protection from you? What a fun game.”

“Paying for protection from the rest of the city, as well.” This time, she perked up.

“Now you’re talking my language. But what makes you think I need it?”

“You’re _new_. And fresh blood attracts sharks. Everyone will be moving in on your territory. You’ll be overwhelmed without help. And from what I can tell you’re...tenacious. If you’re going beyond your borders and up north.”

Cin’s smile was large, showing too many pointed teeth. Dick wondered how long it had taken, to file each of them. Who had done it? Did it hurt? Had she done it to be threatening, or was there another reason?

“And why then, if I’m such an easy target, would you choose to side with me? What makes me so appealing, Nightwing?”

Dick waited a moment, then, “I can’t give up my whole game.” Another laugh, and Cin was pushing her chair back, standing up and walking around the table. Her heels clicked, echoed, and she walked past Damian, sparing him a glance, as he and Dick turned to face her. She was taller then either expected- and perhaps the heels helped, but she stood just under eye level with Dick.

“You’re going to be a fun one, Grayson. I can tell that much.” She reached out, tapped her finger at the center of his chest. “This is a decision I’m not at liberty to make alone. I hope you’ll understand. Perhaps we can...arrange something, to talk again. After I’ve had some time to toy with this idea.” She didn’t wait for Dick to answer, walking past him, brushing along his arm, heading for a bag at the end of the table. When she turned and glanced back, Damian was glaring at her.

She only smiled more, opening the bag, tossing a phone across towards them. Dick caught it, rolling it over and glancing at the back.

“Tracer free. Scout’s honor.” She lifted her hand. “I’ll call you when I’m ready. A few days, max. Do we have a deal?”

Dick turned the phone over again, before he passed it to Damian, who shoved it into the pocket of his jeans.

“Deal.”

*

“What the _fuck_ was that?” Damian hissed, as the pulled from the shadows, Dick wheeling the bike from its hiding spot.

“Business.”

Damian clicked his tongue. “Are you going to explain this to me at all, Grayson? Or simply leave me in the dark like father so likes to do?” Dick glanced at Damian, before firing up the bike, saying nothing. The teen huffed, before he climbed on behind him, clutching tightly as Dick sped out into the streets. Despite his frustration, Damian pressed his face into Dick’s shoulder, clung tighter then he needed to. He didn’t let go, even once, the entire ride back towards the safe house.

They stashed the bike a few blocks away, kept to the shadows until they were safely inside. Dick had replaced his mask before leaving the meeting room in the club, and was pulling it off again, heading upstairs. Damian followed, pulling his own off, unzipping his hoodie and dropping it on the kitchen counter, as Dick began dissembling his suit.

Damian waited until Dick had stripped from the waist up entirely, before asking again, “Are you going to clue me in, Grayson?”

“There’s something going on here. She’s not reckless. I didn’t...get that vibe from her. There’s someone else here, pulling the strings. That’s why she wouldn’t make a deal. She’s not even trying to hide it.”

“-tt- So?”

“So, someone _big_ is pulling the strings if they took a fourth of the damn city, and are moving towards the largest territory held in the city limits.” He leaned back against the counter, folding his arms over his bare chest. “They’re going for a different product, going north. South is drugs. North is... _entertainment_.” Damian furrowed his brow, and Dick rolled his eyes. “Sex. Sex sells. You should know, we’ve seen it in Gotham.”

A tinge of color rose on the teen’s cheeks, and Dick smiled. Oh, flustered over the idea? _How cute_.

“It makes sense to take both. East and west sides of the city aren’t nearly as thriving. But still. Someone want a part of my city. I want to know who.”

“So you’re going to, what, play nice with them until you decide to not?” Dick shrugged a shoulder.

“Yes and no. Maybe I won’t decide to stop playing nice.” He cocked his head, let his bangs dust along his eyes, his temples. “This is going to be my city, Damian. And I don’t care how I get it back.” He paused, then added, “Do you have a problem with that?”

“This isn’t at all how father taught you.”

“No.” Dick pushed himself off the counter, walking towards the teen. “No, it’s not. Whatever rules Bruce had in place in _Gotham_ no longer apply. My city. My rules.” He reached out, cupped Damian’s cheek, stroked his thumb along it. “And my priorities.” His thumb dropped down, running along Damian’s lower lip. The boy glanced at him, before opening his mouth, tongue circling along it, pressing along his finger pad. “And my top priority is _you_.”

Damian’s cheeks flushed and Dick pulled his thumb back, leaning in to kiss him quickly. The teen tried to follow Dick a moment later, as he pulled away, but Dick shook his head.

“You took drugs off the dealer.” Damian quirked up an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

Dick smiled. “I knew you would. In your hoodie?” A nod. Dick turned, grabbing it and rummaging in the pockets, removing the baggies, the single vial. His smile grew. “I’ve got something else to show you, Damian.”

*

Back down into the first floor of the dusty church, Damian followed Dick past the old pews, across the room to a small door that looked like a closet. Dick opened it, revealing a set of cold, concrete stairs.

“You have a basement,” Damian mused, following Dick down through the dark. Part way down, Dick flipped the light- an odd placement for the switch, where you were forced to be in darkness for a good five steps.

Once they both had their feet on the concrete floor, Damian glanced around. The space was a narrow hallway, with two doors. Dick pushed one open, revealed a boring looking room- a washer and dryer, an old industrial sink. Nothing else.

“Well, good to know we can wash the sheets,” Damian said, rolling his eyes. Dick smiled, reaching back and ruffling his hair.

“Funny kid. C’mon.” He walked to the next one, shoving it open, standing aside so Damian could peek in. The teen leaned in the doorway, eyes darting around. There as a large table set back, against the wall. Two monitors, a number of machines that Damian knew he’d seen in the cave, before.

Dick crossed the room, setting the collected drugs on the table. He opened the machine, carefully opening the baggies, settling in the contents to small tubes. He took a moment to turn the vial, look at it in the low light, before opening it, pouring some in as well. He closed the machine, flipping it on, and Damian heard a low _hum_ pick up.

“It’s out dated,” Dick admitted, “compared to what Bruce uses. These are some of the older models he’s used. But they serve their purpose, for us.” He brought the monitor to life, before turning back to Damian. “A few hours, we’ll have the full chemical make-up of whatever we’ve got here. It’ll run a comparison to known substances.”

The teen folded his arms, said nothing, and Dick walked over, brushing his hand up along his shoulder.

“You’re thinking something, Dami.”

“You left a man to die.” Dick paused, and Damian glanced away. “He had a concussion, I’m sure. Internal bleeding, unless he’d damn near bitten his tongue off. That’s...not like you. That’s not how-“

“ _Batman_ would have done it. No. It’s not. And I don’t care.” He squeezed Damian’s shoulder. “Bruce’s methods...they don’t work. Not to an end result that we can sustain. They breed crazies like the Joker and Crane. You’ve seen Arkham. It’s full, Damian. I know, I’ve kept tabs since I’ve been gone.”

“...They’re building a second facility,” Damian admitted, “Father is fully funding it. He wants to make sure these people get the help they need.”

“I’m going to tell you a secret, Damian,” Dick whispered, his face turning very serious. He waited, a breath, saw Damian’s anxiety in his eyes- and wondered if the boy _couldn’t_ hide it, or simply chose not to around him. “There’s no help for them.”

When he pulled his hand back, Damian reached for it, pulled him back in, reached up to cup Dick’s cheek, fingers sliding into his hair. “You lost hope.”

“And apparently, you found some while I was away.” Dick leaned in, pressed a kiss to Damian’s temple. “I’m proud of you, little bird.”

Damian choked, and Dick smiled softly down at him. The teen glanced away, unsure what to say, how to explain the small sound that had escaped when his breath caught. Unable to fully comprehend himself how much it meant to hear Dick say he was _proud_ of him.

“Let’s get some rest,” Dick whispered, “There’s other times to talk. It’s been an eventful night.”

Damian didn’t argue. He was more then content to curl up against Dick and let his questions lie dormant for a few hours. To forget he needed to ask them.


	2. Enter the Daemon

Dick left Damian alone, the following day, to pick up a few things the needed around the safe house. He left as a civilian, and Damian could only wonder how safe that was, considering he had openly acknowledged his own personal identity, the night before.

He didn’t ask.

Instead he sat on the floor of the main room, the floor around him a mess of various pieces of clothing. He hadn’t brought much with him at all, and he was fairly sure Dick had said something upon leaving about picking a few things up for Damian. He didn’t much care.

What he cared about was that Dick seemed to be coming to terms with accepting Nightwing as his identity again, and Damian had _nothing_.

He couldn’t be Robin. Not here, in this city, not with _this_ Batman. Those days were gone- good days, Damian knew. Days where he was a child and Dick was his everything.

Now, he’d grown up. And Dick was _still_ everything.

Damian was careful as he stitched. It had been a long time since he’d altered a suit himself. He’d worked on the Robin suit, over the years as he’d grown- but Pennyworth oversaw most of it, made final adjustments. His stitching wasn’t as sure. But he guessed it didn’t need to be perfect. He just needed _something_. He feared if he didn’t, Dick wouldn’t let him out with him again. Jeans and a hoodie weren’t exactly great coverage.

He was still sitting there, when Dick returned. The older man eyed him, but said nothing, crossing the room, opening the small refrigerator. Damian watched, for a moment, before he returned to his work. He was holding up his shirt, turning it in the light, when Dick walked over, sat down cross legged across from him.

“You’re making a costume.”

“I can’t exactly run with _Nightwing_ in jeans. And...I’m no longer Robin.” He glanced at Dick, before he let the shirt fall to his lap. Dick reached out, picked up his mask which had been on the ground. The Nightwing mask he’d worn the night prior now boasted a single, vertical stripe down over each eye, green.

The color appeared in various places over Damian’s black clothing. Sewn as a small strip along the rim of his hood. Green gloves, fingerless. Dick thought of the reasons as to why he should have _full_ gloves, but chose to keep them to himself.

“Are we going out tonight?” Damian whispered, and Dick shrugged a shoulder.

“I haven’t decided yet. Perhaps we’ll take the night off. Until I hear from Cin, I feel rather content leaving the city to itself.” He set the mask back down, pushing himself back up. Damian glanced up, and Dick smiled. “Keep working. I’m going to go check on our samples.”

Damian nodded, turning back to his work, listening to Dick’s footsteps as they disappeared, across the room.

*

Dick pulled an old metal chair towards the computer in the basement, settling down to look over his results.

Two of the substances looked similar to Heroin- the vial and one set of pills. But the make-up was off, there was something else laced in there. Frowning, he isolated the changes, running that back against the program. While it worked, he looked at the others- cocaine, which he expected, and ecstasy.

Except all of them were slightly off.

He raked a hand back through his hair. Were they diluting their product, to sell more at a lower production cost? It would make sense, if they didn’t have the cash flow yet to support pure product. But that didn’t feel right- not with the deal he’d seen go down, two nights prior. There wouldn’t be a need for anything like that, if they were simply water-downing their wares. Hell, they could probably keep within the city limits entirely, cook this shit up from basements.

The computer flashed, and Dick focused his eyes, reading the chemical format it spit out at him- and then pausing, at the name below.

 _Fear Toxin_.

Dick sucked on his tongue. A mistake? The machine was older, but the records- they were up to date. He’d siphoned everything he could from the family network. Barbara would be proud-

And want to kill him.

He ran it again, but got the same result. He pushed his chair back, leaving the room, flicking all the lights off and heading back upstairs. Damian had moved, in the few minutes he was gone, stood half naked in the center of the room, adjusting the bottom half of his suit around his hips. He glanced up, before looking back down his body, as if inspecting the fit.

“That was fast.”

“Fear Toxin.” Damian glanced up again, this time keeping his eyes on Dick. “Everything’s laced with it.” Dick closed the door, walking in, pacing along the small room. “It’s very small amounts though. The rest of the drugs are standard- couple different forms of Heroin, Cocaine, Ecstasy...”

Damian tugged his shirt on, pulling the hood up to test how it sat. He was working on the gloves when Dick paused his pacing.

“Are they just trying to poison the whole city?”

“If the trace is minimal enough, they may not be.” Damian paused to look at the gloves, their fit, before he smiled. “Perhaps an additive.”

“Fear Toxin isn’t a _recreational drug_.”

“It wasn’t before. But to the right people, anything is.” Damian pulled his belt around his waist, fastening it. “Could be the edge these people need, to get a hold on the city. Drugs with far greater impact.”

“Drugs that pack a better punch.” Dick grinned, rushing over and gathering Damian up, pulling him into his arms. “I could kiss you.”

“What’s stopping you?” Damian smirked, and Dick returned it, tugging him in by his collar and leaning in, pressing his mouth over his. It was slow, wet, and Dick felt Damian shiver when he pressed his tongue into his mouth, the teen pushing his hips up into him.

Dick smiled, but pulled back, glancing down at his outfit. “Simple.”

“I don’t really have the means for a proper suit, Grayson.” He frowned. “It’s not exactly done. But I guess it wouldn’t matter...I don’t have a lot of toys, currently.”

Dick smiled, pushing the hood back so he could stroke Damian’s hair. He leaned in, kissed his temple. “We’ll get you some, I promise.” Dick knew he had the necessities for Damian- the extra hook shot, a few throwing blades, old ones that were far more curved, circular. But there was so much the teen was missing, he was sure.

He’d get it for him. Given time, he’d get him everything.

*

“G-Grayson!” Damian panted, pressing his forehead down into the pillows. Kneeling behind him, Dick smirked, pressing his fingers deeper into the teen’s body, watching as Damian shoved his hips back against him. His thighs were trembling, his cock heady and flushed, leaking down onto the sheets. “Stop...teasing...me.”

“I wasn’t aware this was teasing, little bird,” Dick breathed, his own cock hard, had been achingly so for too long now. “This is a means to an end.” He hooked his fingers and Damian shuddered, whining as Dick’s fingers methodically pressed along his prostate.

“I-don’t...want it to end...without you.” He groaned, his hands clutching at the pillows, the sheets so tightly his knuckles had gone white. Dick chuckled, feeling Damian’s body clench around him, once, felt the boy shake as he tried to supress his orgasm.

“C’mon baby boy,” he whispered, leaning over him, pressing a kiss to the small of his back. “I’ll get mine, I’m sure. But let’s take care of you first.” He pressed along Damian’s prostate again, and Damian shuddered, inhaling so sharply he grew dizzy. “Unless this doesn’t feel good-“

“ _Fuck_ , Grayson,” he groaned, trying to push himself up. “You...know it does.” His arms shook and gave out a moment later, and he was back with his flushed face in the pillows, muffling his whines, his moans. Dick smirked, reaching his free hand around the teen, grasping his cock and stroking him, hard, even strokes. The kind that had Damian biting the pillow.

“Then what are you waiting for? I want you to come, little prince.” Damian cried out, loudly, and Dick felt him _obeying_ , felt the way his body clenched him, worked around his fingers as his cock pulsed, leaving a white stain along the sheets.

Dick waited until he was sure Damian’s orgasm was done, before he pulled his fingers out, shifting so he was sitting next to him. The teen went limp, hips shifting down against the mattress, and he lay still, panting into the pillows. Dick reached out, stroked his hand along his spine, soothing- and Damian made a small sound.

“You’re wicked,” he whispered, turning his head, glancing up at Dick. “They call my grandfather the demon’s head. Perhaps the world is wrong, and that is _you_.”

Dick openly laughed at that, as Damian rolled over onto his side. “Just because I can get you off doesn’t mean I’m a demon.”

“It’s not that you can,” the teen pointed out, shifting closer, dragging his finger tips along Dick’s thigh. “It’s that you’re so _good_ at it.” Dick felt color rising in his cheeks, before Damian was leaning into his lap, wrapping a hand around his cock and licking a hot strip up his shaft without warning.

He choked, eyes widening slightly, as Damian glanced up at him, with those big eyes, those dark lashes, the look hazy, still riding out the post-orgasmic high. He licked again, his hand following in a slow stroke, and Dick swallow thickly.

“You don’t-“

“I want to, Grayson.” He pulled away, exhaled his hot breath against Dick’s skin, before he smiled softly, almost to himself. “I want you to feel good, as well.”

Dick didn’t stop him, when he opened his mouth, swallowed him down. He stroked his hair back, instead, knowing there was something more to that statement. Something that wasn’t simply physical. It had his chest growing tight.

The adoration he had for the boy touching him now was obscene, in its gravity, its sheer amount and force.

He exhaled, slowly, fingers finding the base of Damian’s neck, the space between his shoulder blades. He stroked along the curve of a scar, as Damian hummed over the soothing touches, the vibrations causing Dick to moan. The boy pulled off, smiled up at him, taking to teasing his tongue around the head of Dick’s cock.

“You say I’m wicked,” he whispered, and Damian chuckled. “You shouldn’t...be this good...” He groaned, as Damian sucked at the bundle of nerves beneath the head, before allowing his hand to take over again.

“We’re just in tune,” Damian offered up, “you and I.” He leaned back in, took Dick back into his mouth, and Dick pressed his fingers into his shoulder blades, groaning loudly as Damian bobbed his head faster.

When he came, it was to his mind repeating Damian’s words like a prayer, _we’re just in tune, you and I_.

*

Vibrations woke Dick. He shifted, pulling away from the heat of Damian’s body, rolling onto his other side, towards the sound. He reached out, towards his jacket, fumbling, found the source-

The phone Cin had given him. He flopped onto his back, closing his eyes as he unlocked the phone, held it to his ear. “Hello?”

“I take it I’m waking you, Grayson.”

“I’m more of a night man,” he admitted, as Damian shifted next to him, rolling onto his belly. “For you, I’ll make an exception.”

She chuckled. “Charming. Do you use that line on all the ladies?”

“Only the ones I don’t want.”

Another laugh. “I like you. And so does my boss. Come back to the lounge tonight, _Nightwing_. We have a lot to discuss, you and I.” Dick hummed his approval. “Shall we say eleven? I have to make sure I have time to wrap up any of my...business deals, prior to.”

“Eleven. It’s a date.”

“Wonderful. I’ll see you then, _Mr. Grayson_.” She paused. “Oh, and no need to sneak in this time. Feel free to use the front door.”

The line went dead, and Dick dropped the phone, closing his eyes. Next to him, Damian pushed himself up, watching.

“I hope that costume you put together is ready for a test run,” Dick offered, not opening his eyes.

“It is.” Damian moved closer, forcefully moving Dick’s arm so he could lay against his side, resting against the juncture of his shoulder and chest. “Is there a plan?”

“Hope that the deal is better then I could dream,” Dick offered, opening his eyes and squeezing Damian, once. “I’m not sure there’s ever going to be much of a plan again, little bird.”

Damian pressed his mouth against Dick’s skin, smiling into the subtle kiss. “I can enjoy spontaneity.”

*

Dick was fully suited up before nine, had left Damian to himself as he sat in with his computers. Whatever he was doing now, the younger didn’t ask. He was content to not know, for now. There was time for that, later.

He was adjusting his suit. It didn’t offer the body armor that Nightwing’s suit had, but he could work on that, as time and resources allowed. He wasn’t sure what Dick _had_ , resource wise, prior to whatever tonight would bring. And, without his father, Damian had nothing.

It was strange.

He pulled his hood up, making his way across the room, into the bathroom. The light was dim, the bulb on its last leg of life. Damian rested his gloves hands on the sink, leaning in and peering at his own face. The mask was larger then his Robin mask had been, but he liked it. Like the strike of the green over his blue eyes.

He smirked, tilted his chin up, cocked his head to one side. There was something terrifying, about the sudden lack of color. Gone was the yellow cape, the red tunic. Sure, there were bits of green- but he was nearly head to toe in black, now. As Dick was.

As his father was, back in Gotham.

Damian glanced down at the sink, tapped his fingers. He had expected to have seen his father by now- that Bruce would have made an appearance, wondering where Damian had gone. Tracking him down, ready to drag him home. With the rest of the family, if need be.

But Bludhaven had boasted no bat, as far as Damian could tell. Granted, he had only gone out that one night, but of the few he had been here, he would have expected Bruce even before that.

He looked back into the mirror again. The eyes that stared back at him screamed of his father, always had. Wayne blue, a contrast to his dark skin, from Talia. His thick, dark lashes, the sharp cut of his cheek bones. Were he to allow his hair to grow, he assumed it would begin to curl in those half waves mother had.

He reached up, fingers feeling the material of his hood. He could be terrifying, he knew. As he was. He had been terrifying as Robin, even as a child. Even with those sickly bright colors. But now, his image could mirror the fear he instilled in others.

He didn’t need the bright colors to distract, to tone him down. He wasn’t a _boy wonder_ , in that moment.

Damian wasn’t even sure he was a Wayne, in that moment. Not now. Not after he let Dick leave a man for possibly dead. Not going in thinking that Dick had no intention of sabotaging any sort of meeting- but actually taking the Bludhaven underbelly by the neck and forcing it to submit to him. Not when it was bringing up in his gut a need he had learned to repress, so long ago. Because his father had asked it of him-

And Dick had too, once.

“I like it.”

Damian jerked his head, looking at the doorway. Dick was leaning against it, arms folded, studying him. Damian said nothing, looking back in the mirror, as Dick pushed off the door frame, walking towards him. He stood behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to the back of his shoulder.

“I should have known there would be a hood.” Damian rolled his eyes.

“-tt- funny Grayson. What am I calling you tonight.” Dick was silent for a moment, then,

“Nightwing. Grayson. Whatever you want, Dami. It doesn’t matter.” Dick had never been good at separating himself from Nightwing, anyway. He knew that- _Damian_ knew it too. And even if Dick felt as if Nightwing was dead, he had felt as if Dick Grayson was dead, as well. In a sense, even when he heard his name countless times over the years with Spyral. But he didn’t feel like it, like himself.

He didn’t now, either. He felt different- but he didn’t dislike it. And if he was going to resurrect Dick Grayson- well, Nightwing would have to come along for the ride, as well.

Damian nodded.

“Am I just going to call you my little prince all night?” Dick whispered, reaching one hand up and tugging Damian’s hood back. He placed a kiss just below his ear, leaning into Damian so the teen was pressed against the sink, pinned.

“Daemon,” Damian whispered, and Dick paused. For a moment, he thought he had simply missed Damian saying his own name. “You can call me that.”

Dick furrowed his brow, and Damian caught the motion in the mirror. He clicked his tongue.

“Grandfather is the demon’s head,” he whispered, “as long as he lives, I will never inhabit that space. Maybe I do not want it. But...I’ve ignored my heritage long enough.” Damian reached for his hood, pulling it back up, forcing Dick to take a step back, unpinning him. Damian turned, staring at him from behind his mask, under that hood. Most of his face was cast in shadow. “I forgot my Al Ghul blood for eight years, Grayson. Perhaps it’s time to remember.”

Dick stared, for a moment, before a smile spread slowly across his lips. “Daemons can be seen as benevolent, Damian. But...I’m sure you know that.” Damian said nothing, and Dick closed back in, gripping him by the collar of his shirt, leaning in so as he spoke, the words were breath against his lips. “You’re many things, Damian. One of the things you’re _not_ is simply defined by a name.” He pressed his mouth to his, quickly, before pulling back, offering, “Whatever blood of yours you choose to embrace, it will always have a place in my veins.”

Damian watched as Dick fully pulled away, walking out of the room, leaving him alone.

Yes, he knew they were not all seen as malevolent spirits- because he was sure, whatever Dick was doing, it wasn’t for malice. There was a reason, there was something good in his head to come of it. Perhaps his ideal of _good_ had simply warped, over the years.

Damian couldn’t complain. The notion was fluid, one that had changed for him since he had first come to Gotham. It seemed fitting it would change again, as he made this new city his home.

*

Dick took Cin’s _advice_ , and walked right through the front door of Stella’s Lounge, with Damian only a step behind him. The patrons stared, but no one asked any questions- if anything, they only whispered to themselves, pointed. But there was a large man waiting at the door, and he escorted Dick and Damian back upstairs, into the same room they had found Cin in before.

This time, she was alone. Settled back into a large, plush chair, the original table replaced with a round one. She had situated two other chairs, opposite her.

“Good to have you back,” she offered, waving them in. Dick walked over, pulling the chair back and sitting down as Cin said, “have a seat, please. Get comfortable.” Damian hesitated, looking at his own, and she chuckled. “You too, little birdie.”

Damian glanced at her, before pulling the chair out, folding his arms. He glared ahead, at her, and she broke into a smile, reaching for a glass she had settled on the table, next to a bottle filled with a strangely dark green drink.

“Oh, don’t think we wouldn’t recognize the Bat’s brat. Just because you’re shed your feathers for a more _tasteful_ set doesn’t mean we won’t recognize you.”

“You keep saying _we_ ,” Damian offered, through gritted teeth, and Dick reached out, resting his hand on his thigh, squeezing. Cin chuckled, before taking a sip from her glass, her lips twitching.

“The eyes above me, the friends of the eyes. Everyone sees you, little _Robin_. Or perhaps a new name is in order?”

Dick turned to her, keeping his eyes off Damian. “Small talk isn’t needed. I’ve got a city to get reacquainted with.” Cin tapped her long nails on her glass, before standing up.

“Right to the point, there’s no charm in that, Mr. Grayson. But fine, as you wish. My employers like you. Substantially. More so, they like who you _used to be_.” She left her glass ignored, picking up the bottle and pouring into two empty glasses, left lined up. Dick noticed there were others, completely untouched. “They like having the Bat’s bastard wonder boy on our side.”

Dick said nothing, watched as she set the bottle back down, lifted the glasses and walked around the table. She stopped at Dick’s side, setting one glass down, and sliding the other across to Damian.

“What is it?” Dick asked, reaching for the glass.

“It’s a toast, to a partnership, if you will. We don’t want you working against us, _Nightwing_. You or the kid bird.” Damian scowled, and Dick dared to glance at him, a hard glare, before looking back at her. “You keep us safe in the city. We’re not worried about the police, they’ve been paid for already. But there’s still a bit of...resistance, in other territories. We want that removed. We want our product protected.”

“And?”

“And...should there ever be an appearance of any old acquaintances of yours, we want them dealt with. You can become our own personal _Batman_ , Grayson. You can protect Bludhaven be keeping her _organized_. Too many hands in the cookie jar just leads to broken glass. At least with us, you’ll know what you’re dealing with.”

“I would, if I knew the _Us_ behind this.” Cin smiled, reaching a hand out and guiding Dick’s glass up, towards his mouth.

“You can meet him, if you like. He has agreed to this. But we must agree to terms, first.” She reached into her short cut jacket, pulling out a folded piece of paper, leaning down to place it in Dick’s free hand. He glanced at it, before setting the glass back down, still untouched, and unfolding it, reading silently to himself. “We thought the number was most generous. The first one is a payoff, for the fact that you have been rather...neutral, so far. The second, your monthly wage for your work. Other payments will be discussed, should other needs arise.”

Damian leaned over on the arm of his chair, and Dick set the paper on the table, passing it over to him. The teen unfolded it, glancing at the numbers, then watched as Dick lifted the glass.

“Do we have a deal, Mr. Grayson?”

“It seems,” he started, the glass pressing to his lower lip, “we do.” He tipped his head back, taking a swallow of the liquid, before he pulled his glass away, grimacing.

Cin laughed. “Absinthe is an acquired taste. Illegal, for the wormwood present. But there’s nothing like it, let me tell you.” She leaned her hip against the table. “We have to discuss specifics, Grayson. You’ll need a secure account for us to transfer funds into, a proper way of contact.” Dick set the glass down, taking her paper, and holding out his hand. She reached back into her green jacket, handing him a pen, and Dick scrawled a long number on the paper.

“This is an account number, based in Holland. The money can be transferred there. I still have the phone you gave me. For the moment, it can serve as our contact. Until other arrangements can be made.”

“Well, you really have thought this all through, haven’t you? And your boy wonder, how does the birdie feel about this sudden _change_?” Damian ‘s scowl returned.

“I’m not a child,” he retorted, and she _tsk’d_.

“No, I guess not. But you are a...complication. I’m sure daddy Bat won’t be too happy that his youngest has flown the coop. Hard enough that his golden boy isn’t quite so golden.” Damain gripped his chair, and Dick pushed his down back, standing up and turning towards him. He reached for Damian’s chin, gripping it as he kissed him, pressing his tongue into Damian’s mouth so the boy had no choice but to suck on it, to keep silent.

It was bitter, overwhelming. Damian exhaled through his nose, thought of whatever Dick had drunk- Absinthe. People liked to say it caused hallucinations.

Acquired taste. And Damian found the bitterness, while overpowering, didn’t deter him. He reached for Dick’s chest, clutched at his suit, even as he pulled back, left Damian’s lips overly wet. When Damian finally pulled his hand back, Dick turned, staring at Cin.

“My little prince is not a complication. Were he not here, I can guarantee you wouldn’t find me so...agreeable.”

Cin rose her eyebrows, watched as Dick reached for the glass, downed the rest of it. Behind him, Damian reached for his, choosing to cradle it close. “Romance between the birds. How sickeningly _sweet_.” She turned, walking back around the table and picking up her own glass. “I’m glad we had this talk, Grayson. I think you’re going to enjoy our friendship.”

Dick said nothing, and Damian dared to take a sip from the glass, before setting on the table, pushing it away. He grimaced, and across from him, Cin was laughing.

“Again, not for everyone.” She raised her own glass, and Dick grabbed Damian’s, tossing it back, baring his teeth after. Then he was grabbing Damian by the wrist, pulling him from the chair. Cin folded her arms. “We’ll be in touch, _Nightwing_.”

Dick glanced back at her, said nothing, and pulled Damian out into the hallway.

*

“You had a bank account already set up,” Damian mused, from where they perched later, atop one of Bludhaven’s buildings.

“I had a month to try and get a life together,” Dick offered, “before I came for you. I did at least have a few things situated.” He smiled, glancing at Damian. The teen rolled his eyes, and Dick leaned forward, gripping the ledge of the building until he was in Damian’s space, kissing him again. Damian smiled against his mouth, letting Dick lick into his mouth. He still tasted of absinthe, but Damian didn’t care.

“You know,” Damian whispered, reaching out to tip Dick’s chin up, “We could call it an early night...”

Dick _laughed_ , reaching up and grabbing Damian’s wrist, turning his hand, kissing his finger tips. “Eager much, pretty boy?”

Damian shivered, didn’t bother to hide it. “With you? _Always_.”

“If we’re not careful I might end up breaking you, little bird.” Damian rolled his eyes, standing up. Dick followed suit, reaching out and knocking his hood back, threading his gloved fingers through his hair. He pulled Damian in for another kiss, moved his mouth down his jaw, under his chin. He sucked, until he heard Damian whining, until he was sure he was leaving behind a little bruise. “Somethings tells me,” Dick offered, into the bruised skin, “that you might like that.”

Damian swallowed thickly, and Dick pulled back. He leaned in, kissed the corner of his mouth, before he was stepping back, grinning- cocky and playful.

“Race you home.” He turned, tossing himself off the building, and Damian grinned-

Before he swore, for a moment, there was something moving out of the corner of his eye. He turned, tensing, spreading his legs to get a firmer footing-

But nothing was there.

He held the pose for a moment, before relaxing. He stared into the dark, into the liquid shadows around the building, that seemed to melt off into the sky.

“Father,” he whispered, in quiet acknowledgement, before he pulled his hood up and turned, following Dick and jumping off the building. He didn’t doubt his own sanity- he was sure that, somewhere in those shadows, Batman stood, watching. How long he had watched, Damian didn’t know.

It didn’t matter. He would find out about everything, soon enough. After all, Gotham was their neighbor to the west, not that far. News would travel, of the resurrection of Nightwing, of the fallen bird at his side. And Bruce would come. The family would come.

Damian knew they would simply have to be ready. On so many fronts, in so many ways.

But for that moment, his father could stay a single, inky shadow, feeding on the knowledge that Damian had run away with his favorite child, his golden sun-

The fallen star that had burned far too brightly.

*

By the following night, the money was in Dick’s account. He checked it, left it be for an hour, checked again. When it hadn’t disappeared, he took half of it, and had it transferred to another account. He would tell Damian about it, one day soon. He would bring him into his loop, with everything.

One day at a time. He didn’t want to overwhelm the boy. Besides, as much as he wanted this city, as he wanted to set into motion his own method of finally bringing order- he was more concerned with simply enjoying the boy that had so willingly run away with him.

Truth be told, Dick Grayson would rather focus on the sweet dichotomy of the way Damian fucked with a passionate rawness, and then reverted into something more like his childhood self- that strange clinginess he had held as a boy, would deny except when he was overly tired.

Dick remembered carrying his little form from the Batmobile, nights after patrol. He had been _so small_. He had been his to protect.

In a way, Dick felt he still was. Even if Damian didn’t need it. But part of this, part of the reason behind this- it was him. For him. To give Damian a city with _order_. To give him something, aside of Gotham.

Maybe Dick was crazy, thinking Bludhaven could ever be anything better. Maybe he was crazier, trying to take his city and mold it into something by getting into bed with the scum of it. But he needed something new- old methods weren’t holding, results were temporary. Gotham was proof of that.

“Grayson?” Dick glanced up from his computer. Damian was standing in the doorway, watching him, quietly. He glanced a the computer, and Dick smiled, closing his tab.

“The money is there. I expect a call soon.” Damian nodded, walking over. He leaned over the back of the computer chair, glancing at one of the screens. Dick had been reading up on the pattern of drug use and popularity over the past five years. Looking for patterns- and more importantly, changes in them.

“Will you take me out?” Dick glanced up, but Damian wasn’t looking at him. He didn’t need to. “Show me something in this city.”

“Don’t you see the city the way you want to, at night?” Dick smiled to himself, but Damian shook his head.

“Show me something...pretty.”

Dick glanced back at the screens, knew Damian’s eyes were locked on the black and white image of a young man, overdosed and left leaning against a dumpster, a needle still warm in his skin.

*

Damian kept his hand clutched in Dick’s as they walked. They had left the car a few blocks back, and were walking down an older district of Bludhaven, which had been converted to small mom and pop stores, bakeries. The cute side of the city, filled with college kids. The crowd wasn’t to Damian’s liking, but the architecture of the old buildings was nice, the atmosphere of the shops themselves.

He had asked, when they had first crossed into this district, if this was what Dick considered pretty, in the city. Dick had smiled at him, said it was _quaint_ , but not what he wanted to show Damian. They were just going to enjoy passing through.

As they walked, Damian noticed a few people glancing at them. He wondered if they were trying to understand them, the relationship between he and Dick. Dick looked young, but he still probably seemed considerably older then Damian. Maybe they were recognizing one, or both, of them. But Damian doubted it.

He leaned closer to Dick, rested his cheek for a moment against his shoulder as they walked. Dick glanced at him, before he smiled, looking ahead again, and Damian inhaled the cool late afternoon air.

A few blocks, and Dick was guiding Damian out of the quaint district, back into the heart of the city. Across a few busy streets, and they were entering a tall building- one of the city’s many hotels.

Damian scrunched up his nose, as Dick guided him towards the elevator. “Grayson, if we wanted intimacy, we could have stayed home.”

“Get your head out of the gutter,” he said, ruffling Damian’s hair as the elevator door closed. “I’m not here for a room. Just trust me.” He slung his arm over Damian’s shoulders, pulling him in closer, and Damian shoved his hands into his pockets.

This felt like a different man then the one who lived behind the Nightwing mask. This felt like the Dick he had known, before he had died. This felt like the man who had been his first Batman.

The fact that there was suddenly a difference in the two was chilling. Because it made Dick suddenly more like his father, and that was something Damian wasn’t ready to face.

The elevator stopped on the top floor, and Dick tugged Damian off. He rushed him down the long hallways, to the end, which was nothing but a large, long window. Arm around Damian’s shoulders, Dick grinned, looking out at the expanse of the city below them.

“You wanted to see something pretty,” he said, “well, here it is.” He squeezed Damian’s shoulders. “Here’s my city, Damian. Here’s all of her. Or well, as much as we can see from here. It’s hard to see the whole thing.” Damian stared out, over the jutting shapes of buildings, the curves of streets. He could see the suddenly pause in buildings that was the central park, the sudden rush of green from the trees.

He could see the highway, leading out of Bludhaven. Somewhere in the distance, he knew Gotham stood. A shadow of a brother, a father, of terror.

“She can be beautiful. Just like Gotham can.” Dick slid behind Damian, resting his arms around his waist, nuzzling the side of his neck. “But she’s beautiful because she’s _ours_.” He kissed Damian’s pulse, softly. “She’s going to be a legacy, little prince. Our legacy.”

Damian let one of his hands cover Dick’s, stroked his thumb along his fingers. He couldn’t help the fact that his heart was beating faster then, against his ribs. Over the idea of a _legacy_ , something he had been told he needed, since his time with his mother, grandfather.

Something he had thought to take, one day, when he became Batman- that was not an option now, he knew.

But more so, it fluttered over the fact that it would be _shared_ , that it was both something that would boast both he and Dick’s work- but more so that Dick seemed to be offering up the city to him as a _gift_. That he loved him enough to give him the world-

As far as they were concerned, Bludhaven was the entire world, for the time being.

Damian closed his eyes, leaned back against Dick, dropping his head against his shoulder. The older man squeezed him, and Damian hummed, as Dick turned, kissed his hair.

“I love you, little bird.” Another squeeze, and Damian wanted to melt back, entirely into Dick. To become the blood in his veins, the very marrow in his bones. “I’ll give you the world.”

Damian didn’t doubt it.

*

Dick got the call the following afternoon. Cin’s voice was steady, words to the point. The shipping district. She gave him the lot number, the time, and nothing more.

Dick didn’t need more.

He suited up side by side with Damian, stealing glances at the teen as he fastened his mask, tugged his hood up. He couldn’t wait to get Damian a proper suit. He couldn’t wait to see what he would become. He had missed too much of his life, too many years- he wouldn’t miss this becoming.

The trip across the city was quiet, with neither speaking. They traveled by bike, Damian pressed up against the curve of Dick’s spine, clutching him slightly tighter then he needed to. When they arrived at the designated lot, Cin was standing a few feet from a sleek, black car, flanked by two large men, each holding an equally large gun. Dick felt his stomach lift in excitement.

There would always be something thrilling about the possibility of something going wrong.

Damian was off the bike first, and a moment later Dick was as well. The oldest walked a step in front of him, and Cin smiled with her sharpened teeth as they approached.

“Right on time,” she offered, “You do impress, Mr. Grayson.”

“With my upbringing, being anything but punctual would have been _rude_.” Dick flashed a smile- a real Grayson smile, and Damian thought back to his fear that perhaps Dick and Nightwing had a sudden separation, one that had never existed. Maybe he was wrong.

“True, true. You do have quite the, ah, _history_.” She placed her hands on her hips, as in the distance the sound of a large truck’s engine could be heard, the heavy wheels making their way over pavement. “And my boss is going to be pleased that he won’t have to _wait_.”

A large truck pulled up behind her. Nothing out of the ordinary, that Dick could tell. The shipping company name was smudged from dust and dirt, illegible for the moment. He watched, heard Damian’s boots sliding on the pavement as he got a firmer footing, ready for whatever might come spilling out of the truck.

Cin walked around with her men to the back of the truck, waited as they opened it, pulled down the ramp. Once they were done, there was a moment of pause, of pure silence, before Dick heard the sound of a cane, moving along with footsteps- one step slightly heavier then the other.

The figure that stepped down slowly along the ramp was one he knew. Years had aged him, left his red hair thinning, his pale skin seeming like liquid paper. If Dick looked hard enough, he could see veins. The most notable, and it seemed worst part about him had to be the blown out knee he now boasted, which Dick knew, from family reports while he was away, was actually _Tim’s_ doing, in a fit of rage.

The incident had been a little hazy, to Dick, as it had extended beyond the family. Had been a _Titans_ issue, actually. Seems someone had gotten a little too close to Tim’s Superboy, and the former Robin hadn’t cared for it- might have reacted slightly unhinged. _Good_.

The man’s feet hit the pavement, and he turned, grinning at Dick in a way that was almost mad, _almost_ , but not quite.

“Dare I believe my eyes,” he said, “or is this some sort of...illusion.”

Dick crossed the pavement, aware that Damian hesitated a moment, before moving, a few steps behind him. He closed in on the man, who had reached up, tipping his hat back slightly.

“Nygma,” he offered, “I can assure you, we’re the real deal.” Edward grinned then, has hand stroking along the curve of his cane.

“What a time to be alive,” he breathed, “when the first Bat brat comes crawling away from daddy’s wings and right into _my_ line of work.” He glanced past Dick, at Damian behind him, and his grin only grew. “And Cin, you weren’t lying! The little birdie really did fly the coop. Ah boys, what’s-“

“No riddles tonight,” Dick said, holding his hand up. “This is business, Nygma. Now, you didn’t bring this hulking thing all the way here as your preferred mode of transportation, did you?” He glanced away, looking at the truck- and noticed there were man stepping off it, unloading. In the distance, he heard the sound of smaller engines.

“You are no fun,” Ed chided, “but fine. Right to the chase. With our little...agreement, it’s finally time for me to move shop properly. What a pain it’s been, shipping from Gotham to this wretched city. Too many times the damn Bat and his brood intercept.” He leaned in a little closer, “Your little protege would know, _Nightwing_.”

Dick glanced back at Damian, who looked at him. “Fa- Batman stopped drug exports from Gotham all the time. I never knew of a single one linked to the Riddler.”

Ed laughed, reaching up to wipe at his eyes. “Ah, it always feels good to hear that old name. No, no, you wouldn’t little bat, now would you? Not when I’ve been silent for so long. Did you think I was dead?”

“The idea was entertained.” Damian’s stare was hard, and Dick wracked his brain, thinking of everything he’d read on the Riddler in his time away. The incident with Tim had been years ago, had left the man hospitalized in Arkham. An escape- no, a _break_ after a few months. Long enough that he could hobble well enough with his cane. And then nothing, for _years_.

In fact, it felt like a lot of _old blood_ in Gotham was disappearing. New villains emerging, making names for themselves. But the originals, they were all too quiet.

It wouldn’t have been that difficult to deem that Edward Nygma could have died, somewhere. Or simply disappeared, and if he was quiet, and meant to stay that way, what did it matter?

“There’s countless drug runs in and out of Gotham everyday,” Ed filled in, “And while he didn’t know it, _Batman_ has intercepted plenty of mine. But now, _now_ with your help, I feel...secure in setting up shop right here. In our fair little city.” His grin was curved slightly on the side of wrong, and Dick realized he had almost missed seeing these familiar faces. People he knew how to deal with.

Even know, if relationships were changing- he still knew how to _deal_ with Ed Nygma.

“So you’ve moved to simple drugs?” Dick asked. “Not what I would have expected.”

Ed chuckled. “You, my boy, aren’t looking at the bigger picture. If there’s anything I learned in Gotham, it’s what control the streets. Fear and want. That’s it. And trust me, Bludhaven’s got a strong _want_ for anything and everything illicit. I’m going to give them that want. And I’m going to terrify them. This city is going to _need me_ , and be in utter terror of my very existence.”

Dick kept his face calm. Egotistical. No different then the Riddler he remembered from years ago. He could work with this.

“What’s going to make your drugs better then anything else? Or are you simply going to put me to work cutting out any competition?” Dick’s smirk was playful, and Damian glanced up at it, shifting slightly next to him. He was otherwise being quiet. Dick appreciated it. He had to test the waters here, and it was easiest when he didn’t have to worry about the kid’s temper.

“You’ve seen our drugs, you should know, _Nightwing_.” Ed sighed. “Or can I finally cut out the silly little petname and address you as you really are- _Richard Grayson_?” Dick grinned, reaching a hand back and sweeping it through his hair.

“Oh I don’t know, Nightwing always had a ring to it. Rather sexy.” The laugh he got from Edward ended in a cough, one that sound liked it rattled his very bones. Dick made another mental note- medical history. Look into it.

“But you _have_ pocketed some, I know.” Dick’s grin lessened.

“You laced it all with fear toxin. Are you planning to wipe out an entire city, Nygma, and start fresh?”

Another wet, rattling laugh. Dick was bumping up medical history on his priority list. The moment they were home. Maybe Damian would know something.

“Oh wouldn’t that be _fun_. But a bit more...chaotic then I would care for. Age has mellowed me.” He pressed a hand dramatically to his chest. “Leave chaos to the painted dogs who hunger for it.”

Dick’s grin was gone, and he gritted his teeth. Edward smirked, smug, over that.

“I see you must have a...certain caliber of criminal you’re willing to work with, and not. So I should assume our clown friend is not a possible candidate?”

“The Joker has been unheard of for _years_ ,” Damian said, suddenly. “For all we know, he’s dead.”

Edward’s eyes gleamed. “For all you knew, so was I.”

Dick reached out, pressing his hand to Damian’s lower back. Soothing. Damian relaxed. “Is he a part of this, Nygma?”

“No.” Ed leaned on his cane. Dick wondered if standing so long was bothering his leg. “And to answer your question, I have no plans of poisoning this city beyond its means. I’ve simply... _enhanced_ the drugs, if you will. A bit of an extra kick. Not enough to be too...lasting.” Dick nodded. The traces of fear toxin he’d found had been so minor, he had wondered what their possible point could have been. This...made sense.

After all, times were changing. Drugs needed to be harder, if they were going to keep the crowds hooked.

“Now that you’re in the loop,” Edward said, “and that we’ve had this lovely...conversation, perhaps we can get to some real business.”

“Of course.”

“We’re going to have a surge of dealers fanning out all over the city. Territory that isn’t...exactly ours, yet. And while _my_ face isn’t plastered all over this- yours can be. I need you to, ah-“

“-be your attack dog.” Dick said it flatly, and Edward grinned.

“You get it, my boy. Rough up anyone who tries to rough up my _sales_.” He shifted, still leaning on his cane. “Cin will give you the layout, the plans. We’re setting up for full production within the city limits as well, but once that is set...we begin.” He reached out, clamped a hand on Dick’s shoulder, squeezed. “It’s good to have talent like you on the _fun_ side, son.”

He glanced at Damian, but said nothing, waving his hand. Without a proper goodbye he was moving, towards one of the cars that had pulled up. Dick waited until he had climbed in, and the car was pulling away, before he turned to Cin. She had her arms folded, looking almost bored.

“Tomorrow night, the lounge, midnight. I’ll have the plans for you. I would invite you back tonight, but I have some...negotiations to work through, on Mr. Nygma’s behalf.” Her eyes darted between Dick and Damian, before her bored expression flashed into a smile. “But I’m sure you two don’t mind an early evening...”

She trailed off, and Dick gave a smirk, a seductive curl of his lips not meant for her, simply meant to prove her _right_.

Besides, it was safer that she think he would be far more interested in getting his partner home and out of his suit, then that he might want to spend any time actually thinking on the criminal who he was suddenly working for.

*

“He’s been silent for years,” Damian said, before they were both fully inside their attic apartment. He had torn his mask off already. “Nothing, _nothing_. Hell, father thought he was as good as dead. His status as been possibly deceased for...too long.”

“Well, obviously the old Bat was wrong.” Dick pulled his own mask off, working on his gloves. “He’s been working under the radar. Which, considering the show he always liked to put on, is something.” He chucked both his gloves onto the counter, began unfastening his suit. “How was his health?”

“Who? ...Father’s?” Dick rolled his eyes, and Damian huffed. “I do not know. Fine? Besides the whole Drake-destroying-his-knee-incident.”

Dick nodded. He made a mental note- learn more about that, as well. Just to be safe. Reexamine the incident report, if he could. He wished he could put a call in to Tim, to ask.

But he really wasn’t in a position to talk with any of the family, at this moment. Too much of a risk. He couldn’t imagine any of them would understand, what he was doing. He wasn’t even sure he did, himself.

“Does this change something?” Damian asked, pulling his shirt off over his head. He tossed it on the counter as well, which was becoming quickly cluttered with their gear. Dick sighed, shoulders sagging for a moment.

“No, not exactly. It just...stream lines a few things.” Damian clicked his tongue, closing the small distance between them, until he was pressing against Dick, hands gripping the counter and pinning him against it.

“Care to elaborate?” He stared up, expectantly, with eyes that were hard. Dick felt a tug in his chest, and he reached up, brushed his knuckles along Damian’s cheek.

“Soon,” he whispered, smiling. A sad sort of smile, because he needed to be able to explain properly to himself, before he fully brought Damian into his plan. There were too many strings now, the web being weaved haphazardly, and Dick needed to clear his head.

Damian brushed Dick’s hand away, leaning back, off him. “Soon? Really Grayson?” He frowned, then grabbed for his shirt, tugging it back on. Dick watched as Damian grabbed his mask, turning away from him.

“Where are you doing?”

“I need some air.” He moved towards the door, too quickly, and Dick watched it slam behind him, listened to the sounds of his footsteps on the old stairs.

He waited a moment, until he was sure that Damian wouldn’t simply turn around, before he let his shoulders bow, reaching up to press the heels of his hands into his eyes. He didn’t want Damian to think he wasn’t trusting him, that he was treating him like a _child_ \- but well, what he wanted to do, especially now- it wasn’t easy.

Hoe was he supposed to calmly explain to the kid that he wanted to main each and every member of the rogue gallery, for what they had done, over the years? How did he explain the utterly vile things he wanted to do to each and every one of them, now that he found them beyond redemption? How did he convey the utter need for blood, for that pound of flesh he was owed.

And how did he make himself seem sincere, when he was now working with one of the very men who he wanted to utterly tear apart?

*

Damian crouched on the rooftop, looking down at the street below. It was quiet, he had barely seen any cars driving by. This part of the city, that he had managed to make his way into, was happily sleeping now. Part of him wanted to be sleeping with it.

He clutched at the ledge, felt each rough dip and contour to the building under his bare finger pads. It still felt strange, to be able to feel. These little gloves were so different from his Robin gauntlets. But change was good. Being able to feel was good.

He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. He was tired, and he shouldn’t have been. It was well past midnight, going on one AM- or was it past that, already? He wasn’t sure. He hadn’t looked at the clock when they’d returned to the safe house, and it felt as if his concept of time had been fading lately. At least at the Manor, there had been a structure. Different from any normal life structure, but something. Things that reminded him of the time of day- Alfred preparing dinner, or a late breakfast after patrol. Training rounds with Cassandra in the cave- those were always the best.

He wouldn’t let himself miss it.

Because if he missed it, then he would want to go back. And if he went back, he would miss Dick. And _that_ was more painful. He had spent years missing the man who had been _his Batman_ , his first real friend, his first real love. He’d spent years thinking he was dead, constructing him in his mind, like a secret memory palace. A place where Dick resided forever, frozen as Damian remembered him best, with that sappy smile and those dancing eyes, with a slew of nicknames for Damian on his tongue. With a voice full of affection. Full of acceptance.

He had accepted Damian for whatever he had been, as a child. He had given him a _chance_. A blind chance, at times. And Damian figured the least he could do was repay that blind trust in turn, now.

There were boots behind him, landing on the roof. Heavy. His eyes snapped open, but he didn’t turn, as the shadow moved up behind him. In the corner of his eye, he could see the billow of his father’s cape.

“Father.” It was a flat whisper. He stared ahead of him, at one of the tightly fit houses, all side-by-side, packed in as if they were being shipped across the world and a single jostle would send them all cracking into oblivion.

Bruce didn’t speak, and Damian pushed himself up, standing slowly. He turned, staring up at the man who _still_ had a little height on him. Damian squared his shoulders.

“If you’re going to speak, do so. It’s late.” Not that Damian was sure he was ready to head back yet. But he wanted to be _alone_ , if anything. And this was not it.

“What are you doing?” The words were...quieter then Damian expected. Damian inclined his head, slightly. “In this city.”

The rest didn’t need to be spoken.

 _This isn’t your home_.

 _You don’t belong here_.

_What are you doing with him?_

“Whatever needs to be done,” Damian offered, “However it needs to be done.”

“There are rules-“

“Your rules cloud your results, father. Your methods _don’t work_.” Damian’s hands fisted. He had seen it, as a child. Ineffective, in the long run. But he had abided by them, because it was asked of him. By his family. By his father.

 _By Grayson_.

“You were doing so well.” Damian almost swore he heard pain in Bruce’s voice- and maybe he did. Because he knew it was true. Sure, he might have been guilty of using excessive force at times- but he knew the rules, and he played by them. Better then Jason did. At least there was that. “He’s not mentally sounds, Damian.”

That brought Damian back from his thoughts. He stared up at Bruce, cracking an angry sort of grin. “Really, and how did he get to that point, then? _Who put him there_?” Bruce turned his head, looking away, and Damian wanted to pound his fists into his broad chest, to scream at him because he took Dick away, he was the one that asked him to stay dead, sent him off to Spyral. He was the one who had bred the monster Dick seemed to be becoming.

He had set Dick on this path. And yet he wanted to damn him for it.

“You’re not safe with him.” Damian snorted then.

“I’m safer with him then I have ever been. Grayson would never allow harm to come to me.” He licked his lips, let his smile change from angry to almost dirty-

Because he _was_ angry.

“Grayson loves me,” he finally said, “He would die for me.”

Would he? Damian wasn’t entirely sure. He hoped he never would be- that nothing would ever come to that. But he sounded sure when he spoke, and that was all that mattered.

“Damian, you’re a child-“

“I am _not_. I ceased to be a child by your strange legal terms on my last birthday. If you ask Grayson, I never was one.” He folded his arms. “He doesn’t treat me like a child, father.”

His smile stayed dirty, the kind that boasted of vile things his father never needed to know about. But Damian didn’t care. Anger made him mean, made him want to pick at Bruce and get in through the cracks however he could. If insinuating that Dick had fucked the childhood right from his bones would do that, then he would hint _all night long_.

Bruce’s mouth set into a scowl. He understood. Damian knew.

“Come home,” he said, offering out his hand. “We’ll...fix Dick.”

 _Fix him_. As if Dick needed to be fixed. Damian wasn’t entirely sure what sort of end they were heading towards, and how fast the descent was- but he didn’t think Dick needed to be _fixed_ , per say. No, after all he had gone through, he was fairly sure he was doing _just fine_.

Damian swatted his father’s hand away. “Grayson does not need to be fixed. Nor do I.” He tugged his hood tighter over his head. “We’re doing just fine.”

He turned, ready to let himself drop off the building, when behind him he heard, “Damian...the next time. It won’t be like this.”

He knew. The next time there would be angry words, if any. There would be pain, blood. Split lips and cracked ribs. It would be a war.

So be it.

“Goodnight, father.” Damian let himself fall from the building, wishing it was higher, so he could enjoy the drop. Instead he had to get a hook out quickly, to catch himself, allow a decent landing on his feet. When he looked up, the shadow of the Bat was gone.


	3. A Wretched Savior

Dick tapped his fingers along the keys. He had, spread over his monitors, endless reports of drug busts from within Gotham city limits. _Countless_. Big and small. He couldn’t rule anything out. Nor could he exactly tell which were tied to Nygma, considering it seemed he was dabbling in any and all wares- and none of the reports listed inconsistencies in the drugs. Additives.

Nothing about the fear toxin.

Was that simply kept from the records? Was he not digging deep enough? As it was, he was probably setting up some red flags for the network in Gotham. If he wasn’t careful, he’d have Oracle on his tail-

And Babs was the last thing he needed right now.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning his head back. He’d been staring at these screens for too damn long, and god, _what time was it_? He glanced at the corner of a screen. Damn near three AM.

Where the hell was Damian? He felt a jolt of worry, in his gut. He wasn’t used to Bludhaven the way Dick was. He could get lost. He could have run into trouble-

He took a deep breath. This was _Damian_. The kid was blood of the league. He could handle whatever this city spit at him. And he didn’t think Nygma would have already tried to cross him, to get to Damian to get to him. No, too soon. If that was going to happen- and Dick didn’t doubt, eventually it would- it would be after Dick had done some good for him, at least.

He rested his hand over his eyes. They ached, felt like cotton behind his lids. He needed to go to bed.

He didn’t want to go to bed alone.

Maybe he should have just been up front with the kid. Maybe he should have tried to explain what he wanted to do, even if he didn’t exactly grasp it himself. Was he talking about killing the men and women who had cost this world so many lives? That had maimed those he loved?

That had killed one, once.

He sucked on his tongue. He wasn’t sure, exactly. Maybe. In the end. But more so, Dick wanted them alive, to feel what he had felt, the pain and suffering of knowing what he was doing _wasn’t enough_. To have them feel the pain they had inflicted on others.

He wanted revenge, in it’s most wicked and vile form.

Maybe after he had that, he could put them out of their misery. Bring some order to this world. Let the cities have their damn vices, their petty crime. He didn’t care. But those madhouses on legs, with vile smiles and wicked tongues- those were _his_.

He was going to end them.

He heard footsteps on the stairs, and then the sound of the door opening, closing. Locking. _Damian_. He didn’t move, hand over his eyes still, as he heard the footsteps moving towards his open door, into the room-

And then Damian’s hand pressing under his collar bone, rubbing gently, and the teen’s mouth pressing to his cheek. He glanced between his fingers, smiling softly. “Get that air you needed?”

Damian nodded, pulling back and peeling his mask off for a second time. His shirt followed, left in a pile on the table, as he glanced at Dick’s screens. “What are these?”

“Drug busts from Gotham. Years worth. Large and small scale. It’s...daunting, to go through all this. But I can’t find a single thing that sticks out as Nygma. Nothing lists any of the drugs being tampered with. And maybe they weren’t testing them and just assuming they knew what they were dealing with...but still. I’d think someone might eventually run a tox report on _something_.”

“It is the GCPD,” Damian pointed out, tugging his gloves off. They joined the pile. “I need a shower.”

Dick glanced at him, arching up an eyebrow. “Is that a statement, or an invitation?”

Damian paused, leaning back down to kiss his temple. Dick reached up, threaded his fingers into his short hair, holding him so he could tilt his head, catch a quick kiss on his lips.

“Both,” Damian admitted. “It’s late. You should get in bed.”

And then he was pulling away, leaving Dick to watch him go. He waited until he heard the bathroom door shut, before he glanced back at his screens-

And then pushed his chair back, getting up and leaving the room in darkness, heading for their excuse for a bed.

*

Damian stepped from the shower, toweling off his hair in the dark. He hadn’t turned a single light on. There was something about showering in the dark that he rather liked. Especially here.

Light felt like a sin in this church, during these early hours.

Once he was mostly dry- or at least the rivets of water had stopped trailing down, curving around scars- he opened the door, stepping out. He left the towel pooled on the floor, and walked naked towards the bed, where he found Dick was laying. He was on his side, sprawled beneath a thin sheet. Smiling to himself, Damian pulled it back, got a glimpse of naked skin- had Dick stripped entirely? He hoped so- then crawled in, curling up against the curve of Dick’s spine.

Ah, he had.

Dick shifted, pressing back against him, humming at the feel of Damian’s overly heat skin. The teen pressed his mouth to the back of his neck. “Should I take it you’re not mad at me?” Dick whispered, and Damian pressed the points of his teeth against his skin. Dick hissed.

He leaned back, slightly, grabbing Dick’s shoulder and forcing him to roll onto his back. He tossed the sheet back, crawling over him to lay against him, seeking out his mouth. Damian didn’t want to talk, in that moment. If he talked, he’d ask questions. He’d question if Dick trusted him, after he had told himself, had told his father, that he did.

If he talked, he’s speak of Bruce.

That was the last person he wanted on his mind.

Damian grabbed one of Dick’s hands, pressing it behind him, onto his back, before he resumed clutching at the sheets, sliding along Dick’s body as they kissed. The older man groaned into his mouth, tipped his head back as Damian mouthed at his chin, under his jaw.

“Damian,” he breathed, and Damian reached up with his other hand, pressed two fingers into his mouth, against his tongue, to keep him from talking. Not _now_. He didn’t want words. He just wanted Dick.

He was terrified to of something, could feel it hammering in his chest.

Dick made a startled little noise, before he sucked on Damian’s fingers, tongue working along the underside of them. He moaned around them, as if they were Damian’s cock instead, and the teen shuddered. Dick let his hand fall past the small of Damian’s back, grasp at his ass roughly, and Damian pushed back into the touch.

The teen bowed his head, pressed his mouth to Dick’s neck, sucked on skin until he was whining around his fingers, until he was sure he had left a bruise behind. Only then did he pull his lips back, did he allow Dick to push his fingers from his mouth, to roll him over.

Damian landed on his back, arched up as Dick’s mouth closed around one of his nipples, sucking gently before he was even settled. He reached up, dropped his hand back over his head, legs squirming along the mattress as Dick’s mouth moved slightly lower, sucked on the scarred flesh of his chest.

It promised to bruise. _Good_. Dick moved lower, to the hallow of his ribs, sucked there now, as his hand reached down, grasped Damian’s cock and stroked up along his leaking length. The teen shuddered, eyes falling shut, the sting of the blood rushing up, welling beneath the surface of his skin- lower now, Dick having moved to his navel.

“Cover you,” he whispered, his tongue lapping along the skin first, as if warming it up. He continued to stroke, slowly, lazily, as if it wasn’t his focus.

Damian doubted it actually was.

He let his eyes fall shut, felt Dick’s mouth leave the most recent tender spot, kiss own the rest of his navel, before it was pulled from his body. He felt his breath, against the side of his cock, then the heat of his tongue, trailing up it. Damian moaned, felt Dick chuckle by the rush of his breaths.

“This going to be a nightly thing?” he whispered and Damian pushed himself up on his elbows, opening his eyes and staring down at him.

“What? Fucking?” Dick exhaled, a rush, and Damian smirked. He could be crass too. “Perhaps. We have years to make up for, Grayson.”

“You were a kid, Damian. We wouldn’t have-“

“I want to make up for them anyway. Now,” he reached down, let his fingers tangle in Dick’s hair. “Stop talking.”

Dick rolled his eyes, turned to kiss Damian’s wrist, and the teen wondered if Dick thought he was just being impatient, or if he knew there was a reason he didn’t want words.

Words lied anyway. He wanted action.

Which he got, when Dick leaned over him, sucking him into his mouth. Damian fell back, flat on his back, closed his eyes and tried to think of nothing else, except Dick’s mouth, the wicked movements of his tongue. Not his doubts, not the words of his father, not the way that he knew Dick was keeping things from him-

Just this, this very moment. _Just live in it_.

Dick was reaching over Damian’s body as his head bobbed, fumbling around on the floor, feeling for the small bottle of lube. When his fingers finally found it he pulled it to him, opening it without stopping his teasing. He pulled off to drizzle some over his fingers, but took to licking along the head of Damian’s cock as his slick fingers pressed between his thighs, two sliding inside him.

Damian arched, spread his legs wider, gasping as Dick worked them in and out of his body quickly. He tried to focus on that, on the feeling of Dick’s breath on his now wet cock. Anything.

Just not thoughts.

Just not doubts.

“You’re being quiet,” Dick whispered, after he’d had a third finger inside him, was pulling out to slick his own cock up. Damian didn’t respond. “Damian?”

“Don’t talk,” he finally said, keeping his eyes squeezed shut. He felt a tremor running through him. Doubt, doubt, it was there, and he didn’t want it to be.

“Hey,” Dick whispered, stopping and leaning over him, pressing one palm to his cheek. “Dami, look at me.” Damian’s eyes cracked open and he glanced up at Dick, who looked concerned. Who looked exactly like he had when Damian was a child. When he knew Dick loved him.

A diferent sort of love, but it was there.

Was that what he was questioning now? _Love_? Hadn’t Dick made that obvious?

Damian wasn’t sure, but it was something.

“We should stop,” Dick finally said, and Damian was shaking his head, hooking an arm over Dick’s shoulders.

“No.” Dick leaned down, pressed his forehead to Damian’s. “I need this.”

There was a moment of hesitation, and then Dick simply nodded. He pulled back, situating himself back between Damian’s thighs, guiding himself in slowly. Damian sucked on his lower lip, eyelids fluttered over the sweet stretch, over that perfect feeling of Dick completely filling his body.

Dick had taken his word, without question. He hadn’t asked why Damian had needed this, he’d just given it to him. Blind trust. Again. After all these years, he was still willing to give it to Damian.

He owed him that. _H e owed him that_.

Damian gasped with each thrust, body jostling. Dick’s hands were on his thighs, holding them apart, small grunts and groans mingling with his sounds. He arched, tried to meet his thrusts, before Dick was slowing, leaning over him, one hand going to brace himself among the pillows, the other sliding up Damian’s thigh, to his hip. Damian opened his eyes, just to have Dick there, staring down at him with his startling eyes. He gasped, head tipping back, and Dick caught his mouth in a kiss, rocking into him, still slow.

“Grayson,” he breathed, against his mouth, and Dick smiled sweetly into him.

“Hold onto me, little prince.” Damian lifted his legs, locking them around Dick’s waist, his arms going up to encircle his neck. “That’s it- I’m here, Damian. _I’m here_.” Damian closed his eyes again, Dick kissing the corner of his mouth. “I’m never leaving you again.”

Damian felt his heart jump, up from his ribs into his throat, and he choked. Dick kissed the rise of his cheekbone, the corner of his eyes, pressing in deeply. Damian moaned. The wetness at the corners of his eyes, he told himself it was from the slow intensity, the fact that no matter how slow Dick moved, Damian was going to get off, and _soon_ , he knew.

It had nothing to do with wanting to give everything he was to this man.

Nothing to do with his promise of never leaving again.

Nothing at all to do with a hate he felt for himself for ever doubting Dick.

Damian turned his head, sought out Dick’s mouth. When he kissed him, Damian surged up, trying to steal the very breath in his lungs. He squeezed his legs around Dick’s waist, groaning around his tongue over the friction their bodies were giving to his cock.

He never warned Dick when he was close. Nothing more then his blunt nails digging into his shoulder blades, the space between them. But when he came, he was kissing Dick, and it felt as if he was surging right up into him, into his bones. He had wanted to be the blood in his veins, and Damian thought for a moment, he _was_.

*

Dick had settled Damian on his side, curled up into his chest, head tucked under his chin. The sheet was pulled up over them, and he was tracing lazy designs into his back, as the teen nestled into his warmth.

“Are we going to talk about that?” he whispered, and Damian said nothing. Dick gave him a moment, before squeezing him. “Alright. We don’t have to.”

“I saw father.”

Oh. _Oh_. “While you were out?” Damian nodded. “And what did...Bruce have to say?”

“He thinks you’re mentally unwell.” Dick laughed, a quick bark, which he contained a moment later. A dark chuckle. “He wants to...fix you. He wants us home.”

“Before we do something we can’t undo?” Damian hesitated.

“That was implied, yes. He thinks I am unsafe with you.” That had Dick’s arms tightening around Damian, the points of his teeth showing in the dark of their room.

“You’re never safer,” he whispered, kissing Damian’s hair. “You’re mine, Damian. My prince.” Damian shivered, as Dick placed another kiss to his hair. “And I’m yours. Nothing is going to happen to you. Nothing that wouldn’t have happened already.”

Damian appreciated that. Appreciated that Dick didn’t lie and tell him he would never hurt again. That he wouldn’t die, doing this. Because someday, he would. They all would.

It all came down to luck.

“You are keeping things from me,” Damian finally added, “and I wish you weren’t. But you...trusted me, when I was a child. Blindly. I owe you that.” He tilted his head back, leaned until he could see Dick. “I simply needed to remember. And I needed...a distraction. A reminder.”

“Of?”

“Your...affection.” His cheeks were darkening, heated and pink, and Damian hated that he had not outgrown blushing. He inhaled, slowly. “I did not want your lack of trust to mean a lack of-“

Damian was cut off when Dick reached up, pressed a finger to his lips. He paused, and the man leaned down, kissed him softly. Too softly, too sweetly. Too much, it left Damian’s chest aching.

“I do trust you,” he whispered, “I do, Damian. With my life. You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. I just...I’m not even sure I understand what I’m doing, myself. How am I supposed to explain it to you?”

Damian pushed on Dick, gently, so he fell to his back. He folded his arms on his chest, glancing down at him. Smiling, in the softest curve of his lips. “You try.”

Dick smiled back. He smiled back and he did, _he tried_. Tried to put into words his frustration, born of so long away from the family, of feeling like his missoin was in vein. Of coming home and knowing nothing had changed, that the murderous monsters who had terrorized his family in his youth were still at large. Maybe they were thought dead, but where was the proof?

Obviously non existent, as the Riddler’s sudden appearance proved.

When he spoke of what he wanted to _do_ to these people, though- he knew he made sense. By the look in Damian’s eyes, the spark there. When he told him he wanted revenge. Vengeance, not justice.

The opposite of what they had been taught.

Dick wanted blood for blood, flesh for flesh. And he felt Damian’s heart rate picking up over it, his breathing coming slightly faster. He was appealing to the assassin that he slept for so long in him.

He felt as if he couldn’t reason properly as to why it had to happen now, what had broken his resolve, had truly made him see the failure in Bruce’s methods. Just that it had happened.

And when he was done, Damian was kissing him again, a surge of arousal, excitement, a strange sort of joy.

“You’ll let me let go,” Damian whispered, into his mouth. And Dick knew what he meant.

Let go of everything Bruce had taught him. But let go of what Talia had instilled in him, as well. Let go of everything, and allow him to pick and choose what rules he wanted to follow, how he wanted to feel things. Let Damian finally become who he was supposed to be-

Not a Wayne. Not an Al Ghul. But a sweet mixture in-between. Let him have his blood, but it was _earned_.

“So Nygma-“

“His day will come,” Dick whispered. “And when it does, we’ll have the city he thought to take. We’ll take it from between his _teeth_. He’ll build it up, and we’ll push him over the side.” Damian grinned.

“Use him, when he thinks he’s using you.”

“Precisely.”

“I think I love you, Grayson.” Dick laughed, wrapping his arms around Damian and pulling him down to kiss his temple.

“You only think?” Damian smiled, kissing him one last time for the night.

No, he was sure. He’d been sure for a very, very long time.

*

“Was Nygma ever sick?” Damian glanced up from where he sat, cross legged on the mattress. Dick was talking to him through the open door of his control room.

“Well, you would know his mental state as well as the rest of us-“

“No, not that. I mean, physically.” Damian sucked on his tongue, turning back to the set of small throwing knives he had acquired, that morning. More accurately, that Dick had disappeared for, and returned with, without a word. He was sharpening them.

“Not that I am aware of. The only physical issue is his knee, which Drake is responsible for.” Damian paused, glancing back up. “Why?”

“His cough. It sounded...terrible.”

“Maybe he has a cold.” Dick frowned.

“He was pale. There were circles under his eyes. Did he seem thin to you?” Damian shrugged a shoulder. “I think he’s sick.” Damian said nothing, setting one small knife down, lifting the next. Behind him, Dick had turned back to his computer, was filling through data from the hospitals in Gotham, for the past few years. Not that he knew what he was looking for. “Where would he go, if he was sick?”

“Not the hospital,” Damian said, dryly. “They would have shipped him back to Arkham. Gotham has plenty of ally doctors.”

“If he’s as sick as I think he is, they wouldn’t help enough. Not for this.” Dick tapped his fingers. “You’re sure you can’t remember anything?”

“No, I-“ Damian paused then, letting his hands with the knife fall to his lap. “Wait. Perhaps. It may be nothing.”

“Spill.”

“After Drake attacked him, there was something. He was being moved to Arkham, to finish his physical therapy and begin his sentence. Father and I went to the hospital, to find the records on his injury...to make sure there was no mention of the...excessive force Drake used.” Damian flipped the knife over, idly. “There were no paper copies of his records. Nothing at all in the room that hadn’t even been cleaned yet. And the computers yielded nothing. It was strange. We were fighting with the network for an hour before they came up. Very...precise. Short. We assumed there was an issue with their system, and we left quickly because Brown called in a big gang movement across town. We saw no mention of Drake, and left it at that.”

Dick was quiet for a moment, lacing his fingers together. “Someone was changing the records. They were unavailable because they were deleted, rewritten.”

“Do you think Nygma has a contact, at a hospital? That he’s had one all these years?”

Dick sucked on his tongue, before he pushed out of his chair. “I hate to say this,” he started, walking to the doorway, “But we’re taking a road trip.”

Damian knew exactly where they were going.

*

Damian slouched in his seat, laptop on his lap. His sunglasses were falling down his nose, but he was ignoring them. He had the laptop connected to a satellite, was currently shifting through Gotham General personnel files as Dick drove past the city limits.

“They had to be working at the time,” Dick said, “when the Riddler was admitted. Had to probably have been working that night.”

“I do not think I can get access to a full schedule for that, Grayson. That was years ago.”

“You don’t need it. Look at reports dated for that night. Who signed off on them. That will give us a list.” He slowed the car at a light, adjusting his own sunglasses. “Don’t poke around too much, though.”

“Worried big brother is watching?” Damian asked, grinning up at him. Dick chuckled.

“I see you did some reading while I was dead.” He reached over, ruffled Damian’s hair, before the light changed and they were moving again. “But trust me, I’m worried about someone far scarier then Big Brother.”

Damian sucked on his tongue, saying nothing. Truth be told, he could agree. Oracle was one of the most terrifying things about this city- because she was always watching.

Her, and the damn Black Bat.

They were near the hospital, when Damian finally said, “Got it.” He pulled out his phone, typing a list quickly into it. “Five doctors.”

“Cross reference with accident and death reports with the GCPD database.” Damian nodded, switching over to their network.

“Not interested in chasing ghosts?”

“Not really. But for all we know, our link would be playing dead. But I doubt it.” Damian leafed through reports, searching the names one and a time.

“One died about thirteen months ago.”

“Bottom of the list.” Damian nodded.

“Do a general search online. See if anyone is listed as practicing elsewhere.”

Another nod, and Damian was switching to a web browser. “One has a private practice half way across the country.”

“Out as well. That leaves three?”

“One retired, two years ago.” Damian paused. “It was a few months after the incident.”

“Keep ‘em on the list, but below the other two.” He pulled into the Gotham General parking garage, heading up a ramp. Once the car was parked, he leaned over, closing the laptop and turning Damian’s chin, kissing him quickly. “In and out quick. We don’t want anyone to know we’re here.”

Damian nodded.

They went in in their civvies- it was too risky, in broad daylight, to move about as Nightwing and Daemon. But Dick and Damian weren’t much better- and sunglasses and boring clothing only did so much to hide their identities.

It would have been nice to split up, but Dick didn’t have a proper comlink that he trusted for them to use. Not in Gotham. Not in Orcale’s city. So they had to stick together.

It wasn’t strange, to be wondering around the hallways of the hospital. Could claim they had family, no big deal. One of the doctors was a surgeon, and she was in the middle of a procedure when they found her office. It wasn’t locked.

“What are we looking for?” Damian asked, walking over to her desk and rummaging through the drawers. Dick shrugged a shoulder.

“Anything.” The teen glanced up at him, frowning.

“Some plan, Grayson.”

“Hey, this was on a whim. Less talking, more snooping.” He moved to the book shelf, running his hands along the spines, feeling for anything out of places- lumps, looseness, books pushed too far in or out.

But ten minutes yielded nothing, and Dick didn’t want to chance staying any longer in one place. He and Damian slipped out, moving across to another wing of the hospital.

“Where are we?” Dick whispered, following Damian now, who was glancing at the name on his phone, at the notes next to it.

“Cancer ward. Here, this office.” They glanced around the empty hallway, before Damian pressed his ear to the door, holding his hand up to keep Dick silent. A few moments passed, and then he was beckoning him with a curl of his fingers, opening the door enough for them to slip in.

They moved around the office quickly, Damian going to the doctor’s desk, Dick picking along the bookshelf. He pushed along the books, hitting one that was pushed in further then the others. An old, hard cover medical dictionary. Too old- for show, not for real use.

He pulled it off the shelf. It was light. He opened, just to hear Damian behind him, clanking something against the desk. “Grayson-“

“I found something too.” Dick turned, staring at the glass bowl Damian was holding. Dick lifted one of the bags from the book, giving it a shake.

“It’s just pot,” he offered, “but there’s a bag of cocaine in here, too. He’s mixing them. Not totally uncommon. I bet, though, that this cocaine has a little additive.” Dick fumbled into his pockets, found his own little bag, and dropped the smallest sprinkle of the drug into it, sealing it and tucking it away. He pushed the book back, moving his hands along the shelf, feeling for more.

The next hollowed out book yielded needles, which looked as if they had just been filled.

He lifted one, tapping it, watching the liquid move. Did he keep it in his office, for recreational use? Was he afraid there was someone who might find it? Dick wasn’t sure- and ultimately, he didn’t actually care. This wasn’t the person he was after. He just needed information.

“Grayson, look at this.” Dick turned, as Damian dropped a faded folded onto the doctor’s desk. It had a few coffee ring stains, and when he grabbed it, opened it, the paper edges were torn, worn out.

“Where was this?” he breathed, and Damian glanced at the drawer.

“Stuck between a few others.”

“Look like it’s been touched recently?” Damian shook his head. Dick nodded, slamming it closed. “It’s coming with us. And we’re going.”

“What’s in it, Grayson?”

“In the car. We’ve used up all our luck, I’m sure.” He grabbed Damian’s wrist, pulling him towards the door. The teen pressed against it, listening, before he held his hand up, shaking his head.

“Someone’s right there.”

 _Damn_.

Dick tensed, ready to spring if need be. He didn’t want to draw any attention of them, but he figured if need be he could pull someone in the room, knock them out quick enough that perhaps it would be minimal-

“They’re leaving,” Damian whispered, and Dick relaxed a little. Even better. They waited another minute, before Damian gave a nod, and they were slipping out, hurrying away from the office, back towards the parking garage for hopefully a clean get away.

*

Damian had wanted to have a look at the file in the car, but Dick tossed it in the back, told him to wipe the laptop’s hard drive entirely. They were going to toss it, once they were out of the city. The teen argued that was excessive, but Dick pointed out Gotham belonged to the Bat, to _Oracle_ \- and there wasn’t a piece of digital information that Barbara didn’t see.

“We have others,” he reasoned, “And the means to purchase whatever we’ll need. Crash it and toss it.”

Damian obeyed, partially because it was Dick who had asked- and partially because there was a bit of terror he harbored over the fact that Barbara Gordon knew _everything_ within this city. And much out of it. Age had given him some reason that the family all had reasons he should have a little fear of them.

*

Once they were securely back within their little attic nest, Dick flopped down on the mattress, opening the file and spreading out the papers. Original reports from Nygma’s initial stay in Gotham General, after his run in with Tim. Progress reports on his physical therapy-

There were more injuries listed then Dick had realized. Excessive blood loss, broken ribs- the man had nearly bled out in route to the hospital. His heart had stopped, once.

Dick sucked on his tongue. Seemed his baby brother had a lick of the devil in him, as well. When it came to certain people.

Another piece of knowledge to file away.

Dick sifted papers aside, until he came to the ones he was interested in. _Trouble breathing, rattling of the chest, excessive cough. Patient claims it has been on going to various degrees for a few months_. Behind him, Damian had settled as well, was leaning his chin on his shoulder, reading over it.

Tests run, Xrays done. A grainy image of the Riddler’s lungs, riddled with webbing. The words _terminal_ seemed bolder then the rest on the next page.

“He has lung cancer,” Dick whispered, and Damian pressed closer.

“He’s dying?”

Dick nodded. “He’s been dying since before Tim put him in the hospital. It’s a wonder he managed what he did the other night.” Dick glanced back at Damian. “This works in our favor, pretty bird.”

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Damian felt a hint of color and heat rising in his cheeks. “You’re going to let the disease eat him alive, then? Is that your justice on him?”

Dick shook his head. “No. No Nygma will get what he deserves. He’ll...be an offering to my baby brother.” Damian frowned, and Dick could only wonder if there was a tinge of jealousy there, over him expressing affection for any member of the family.

At the end of the day, they were all family. He held no ill will towards them- but they needed to keep out of his way, if they were not going to join his cause. And Dick didn’t hold his breath that any of them would.

“But this illness must keep him preoccupied. Physically, he must be deteriorating. We’ll have to remove him quicker then I first planned, I would guess.” Dick tapped his fingers on the files. “I imagine this may be what spurred him into action, now. He’s been dying slowly, but perhaps death is finally becoming impatient. And he can’t go out without his name being plastered all over _something_.”

Damian turned his head, listening still as he pressed his mouth once to the back of Dick’s neck. Needed a moment of physical affection- because jealousy was something he knew he had no true grasp of, no proper handle. And it flared in his belly when Dick talked about Tim. Even if he knew, rationally, that Dick did not harbor feelings for the other former Robin as he did for Damian.

Damian was young. He could be irrational, at times. Even if he only admitted that to himself.

Dick closed the file, setting it aside. He turned, shifting, until he could gather Damian up in his arms, pulling him into an embrace, kissing his hair.

There was a coil of excitement in Dick’s gut, over the prospect of getting his way with one of Gotham’s most wicked men, sooner then he had anticipated.

*

When they arrived late that night, at Stella’s Lounge, they were escorted upstairs as they had been last time. Cin was waiting for them, at a smaller table now- Dick wondered if they changed the interior design of this room on a damn nightly basis- which was cluttered with papers. She had a glass of what Dick knew this time was absinthe next to her.

“You have a taste for all things wretched,” he pointed out as he walked over, and sat down next to her without invitation. He glanced at the empty chair on her other side, and Damian took it, even though Dick had seen him move to take up the space next to him.

“What you find wretched, I find delightful.” She raised the glass, took a sip, sighing content and offering a half smile with her sharpened teeth. “So now that you know who you’re working for, how do you feel, darling _Nightwing_.”

“No different.” He reached for the map of the city she had folded out in front of her, tapping on an area to the east. “You’ve taken most of this?”

“Truthfully, we’ve taken most of the city. Our product is superior, and our methods are...brutal. We just need to make sure that no one gets into their heads that they can...claim any ground back. Bludhaven belongs to Edward Nygma, now.”

Dick kept his thin smile. But he knew she was wrong. Bludhaven belonged to _him_.

Cin tapped her long nails on the map. Dick wondered if they could draw blood. “You’re thinking something, _Grayson_.”

Dick chuckled. “Does he plan to keep this whole city in his hands with just drugs?”

Cin returned his laugh. “Heavens, no. Nygma is smarter then that. You should know, of all people. The north district is known for it’s human wares- he plans to keep it that way. You’ve seen the other rooms in this club? We deal in sex, just as much as narcotics, Nightwing.” She glanced over at Damian, who had been silent still. “Perhaps you’d like to sample something? Never much harm in dipping into the product a tad.”

“I’d argue there’s a lot of harm,” Dick countered, finding Damian’s gaze across the table and holding it. “And no, I don’t need a sample. I’ve got...my own supply when it comes to carnal needs.”

Dick was amused to find that Damian’s cheeks tinged pink. The teen kept his mouth in a scowl though. Trying to be intimidating through it. He found it endearing- _cute_.

Cin chuckled, refilling her glass. As she did, she poured the sickeningly green liquid into two other glasses. “I figured as much. Tell me, do Bats always fuck their birds?” She passed Dick a glass, ignoring Damian for the moment. “I know he was your bird when you were Batman, Grayson. Is this a new things, or an old tradition?”

Dick took the glass, downing all its contents with only a small grimace at the end, a sigh. He felt Damian’s eyes burning into him.

Damian had never asked about Dick and his father. He’d been too young, before. But Dick wondered if the thought had crossed his mind. When Dick was younger, it had crossed his.

It was a rule. Robin crushed on Batman. Didn’t mean anything came of it-

Well, except for _now_.

“I can assure you, when I was a _bird_ , all I fucked were other birds.” Dick reached across the table, taking the glass that Cin had turned to offer to Damian, keeping it for himself. The teen said nothing about it. He was turning more and more into simply a silent, intimidating shadow.

Must run in the family.

Cin chuckled, before her phone began vibrating. She glanced at it, before pushing her chair back. “Excuse me a moment.” She crossed the room quickly, slipping out the door, leaving them in silence.

“Grayson-“

“Whisper, little prince,” Dick said, barely audible. The room was bugged, he was sure. Damian nodded. But he did not continue. Dick knew the question in his eyes, and he offered him a faint smile. “I told her the truth.”

And Damian relaxed. Because he trusted Dick. His words floated inside the older man’s head, _blind trust_. And his chest swelled, slightly.

Cin returned, a moment later, grinning at them. “Well boys, it seems like tonight is your first real night on the job.”

*

Within the hour, Dick and Damian were in the east end of Bludhaven, backs pressed against the wall of a condemned building, as gunfire rained down around them. One of the old gangs in the area were retaliating, refusing to bend the knee to Nygma, to work under his command.

There were a few men down already, incapacitated before the duo had had to take cover. Dick glanced up, lifting his hook shot. “Stay low,” he whispered, “I’ll fly high.”

Damian nodded.

Dick was up a second later, the end jerk from his hook shot sending him into a flip. He landed on the roof and was down, hidden from sight. Damian waited, closed his eyes and listened.

The slice of metal through the air. The sound of Dick’s throwing discs- no longer bats- cutting through clothing and flesh. That loud gasp and then pained groan, and Damian heard a body hit the ground.

It occured to him, as he reached to his belt for his own, that he had no idea what sort of force they were using. Where they simply bringing a little extra blood to the scene-

Or should this be lethal.

Damian rolled out, kept to a crouch on the ground as he threw his own. He hit the closest man in both shoulders, and he jerked back, dropping his gun. The one behind him he got in the leg, and was rewarded with more gunfire. Damian rolled away, feeling around his belt for whatever else he might have.

He still didn’t have many toys to work with. His throwing discs, and the small throwing knives he now kept strapped to his thighs. Maybe a few marbles to throw, filled with gas. Enough to choke them. But the area was so open, the wind strong enough he didn’t think they’d do much good.

He just needed to get those guns out of the picture, and he wouldn’t _need_ toys.

Damian pushed himself up, keeping in align as he ran with the man slumping down, trying to pull the discs from his shoulders. The gunfire wove around that man, and Damian grabbed him, pushing off him as he shoved him to the ground, getting leverage enough to slam his boot with into the other man’s throat. He flew back, going down hard, his gun tossed to the ground. Damian landed, turned, delivered a kick to the bleeding man on his knees who he had used to aid his leap.

Above him, he heard the slight change in the air as Dick leapt off the building. He dared to glance up, to steal a moment to watch him move like liquid, coming down hard on a man, and effortlessly leaping to the next.

Dick was beautiful when he worked.

Damian pulled himself back to the moment, turning swiftly as he heard one of the men he had knocked down scrambling up. Oddly enough, the one with the throwing discs still wedged in his shoulders. Damian pulled his fist back, ready to deliver a swift punch to his jaw-

When he heard the gunshot. Heard it, but didn’t feel it, for a moment. He felt his shoulder jerk back, but there was a moment before the burning pain caught on, before he realized the sudden rush of heated wetness was _blood_ , his blood.

He growled, and the man shoved the gun up, smacking his jaw. He lost his balance for a moment, fell back onto his butt- gave a sharp cry when he tried to brace himself with his hands and his shoulder lit up in pain.

“Motherfucker,” he growled, and hated that he had even been hit. He was better then this- though he was at a disadvantage, he knew. But _still_ , pride was a thing. He kicked out, managed to get the man in the hand, and the small handgun he was holding flew from his hand. Another kick to his jaw, and he was falling back.

By that time, Dick was at Damian’s side, crouching down. He forced him to turn, to peer at his shoulder.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Damian hissed, but Dick’s mouth was set in a firm, grim line. He stared for a moment at the wound, at the blood running down Damian’s arm, before he turned. Damian watched s he bent down, grabbed the man who had shot him by his collar and dragged him up. He ripped one of the discs from his shoulders, and the man’s had lolled back as he groaned.

Wordlessly, Dick dragged the blade across his throat, until it was slit wide open, the blood spilling down over his shirt. He tossed him down, left him in a heap on the ground, and walked over to the next fallen man. This time he crouched down, didn’t lift the body as he opened his neck wide, leaving him to bleed out on the pavement, as well.

Damian felt his breath catching in his throat. He ignored the burn in his shoulder, the way the blood was cooling on his arm, only to be replaced by a fresh, hot coating- transfixed by the way Dick so silently, so emotionlessly, suddenly took life.

 _Lives_. All of them. Every man fallen to the ground had their throat slit in the same effortless, silent manor. Each one of them would die.

And Damian knew the answer to his earlier question, then.

When Dick returned, he had collected their bloodied throwing discs, tucked them along his belt. Damian knew which one was responsible for the deaths. It left bloody splotches against Dick’s suit.

“Give me your hand.” Dick reached out, and Damian took it, allowed the older man to pull him up. “We need to stop the bleeding, get that patched up.”

Damian said nothing, and simply followed Dick, silently, as they left the bloody scene behind them.

*

Dick had Damian sitting on the counter in the kitchen, stripped down to the waist, as he worked on the wound. He hadn’t said a word other then a few brief orders, _strip_ , _put pressure here_. Otherwise nothing. Currently, he was cleaning the wound, having pulled the bullet out before, and Damian was hissing as the alcohol burned in his skin.

He preferred the stitching to the cleaning. He always had. The puncturing of skin never bothered Damian- but if he was honest, that chemical like burn of sterilization- that got to him. A little.

Once Dick was working on closing the wound, Damian finally said, softly, “You killed them.” Dick didn’t respond, keeping his stitches even. Damian would have a new scar, he knew. “Grayson, you-“

“I know what I did.” He glanced at Damian, before turning back to the wound.

“Had you...planned on that?”

Dick was quiet for a moment. “No. Not tonight. But he shot you, little prince.” He paused, reaching up to stroke his thumb along Damian’s cheek. “And no matter that you walked away. Some things I won’t forgive. This city needs to know that.”

He turned back to the wound, finished the last few stitches. It wasn’t until he had secured a bandage over it that he finally added,

“There are mistakes Bruce made, when it came to someone harming his Robins. Mistakes I won’t make.”

Damian fought down a shiver. The reference to Jason was blatant, but truthfully- hadn’t they all had those moments where they wished the Bat had taken that one step, gone over the edge, because of what was done to them?

The shiver though mostly stemmed from the fact that, through out all of this, the years and the mantel changes, that Dick still thought of Damian as _his Robin_.

Across the room, there was the sound of vibrations, and Dick was gone, heading for the phone Cin had given him, buried under a heap of clothing. He answered it, sliding it to speaker phone as he made his way back to Damian.

“-essive work,” she said, “Cute little blood bath you left for us. We’re going to leave it, for the media to get their hands on soon. Get the word out.”

“What word is that?” Dick asked as he set the phone on the counter. Damian hadn’t moved from his spot, and Dick slipped between his legs, beginning a slow exploration with his fingers, checking for other injuries. It wasn’t needed. Damian knew he was _fine_.

“That Bludhaven’s savior is back in town.” There was a bite to her words, but not at Dick. It seemed to be directed at everyone _else_. As if she might actually believe, deep down, that he was going to save the city.

Dick didn’t give a damn about it.

“It’s too much to want, I’m sure, to have you patrolling every night,” she continued. “I’m sure the big old Bat had you doing worse, but well...what’s the point of breaking away if you can’t _enjoy_ yourselves? But for the next few nights, we need you. Even if you’re just making your presence known.”

Dick paused for a minute, then, “Just me, or the both of us?”

“Is there a reason your little shadow wouldn’t join you?”

Dick glanced at Damian’s bandaged shoulder. “He was shot,” he admitted, and Damian huffed.

“I am fine. I will be where ever Grayson is.” He glanced at Dick, with hard eyes, and the older man didn’t argue.

“Well, good to hear it wasn’t serious. Mr. Nygma will be glad to hear that Nightwing and...” she paused, and Damian glanced at Dick again.

“Daemon. You can call me Daemon.”

They could hear the little smirk in her voice. “Daemon, then. Charming. Hopefully you’ll be more terrifying then the name conveys. But Mr. Nygma will be glad to hear you both are going to be representing his interests actively on the streets for the next few nights.”

The line went dead without so much as a good bye, and Dick stepped back, allowed Damian to slide off the counter. The teen’s feet landed on the floor, and he rolled his neck, feeling stiff.

“Don’t think you can exclude me from the fun,” Damian whispered, glancing at Dick. Then, reaching out and letting his fingers trail up his abdomen, over bare muscle, “And, thank you.”

“For what?”

Damian swallowed. “For doing what my father would never do- for any of us.”

Dick was quiet for a moment, before he pulled Damian in, against his chest, held him there. He bowed his head, pressed his mouth into the teen’s hair, as Damian’s arms slipped around him as well, clutching him tightly.

This was the beginning, Dick knew. Of everything. Of the new life he wanted, of the new order this city- and others- so desperately needed.

It was the beginning of retribution, long over due. One by one, he would work through every person he saw fit, everyone who had harmed those he loved. Offer them up in love to his family- even if the very action drove that family from him.

He’s sacrifice their love, in order to give them that peace of mind they so desperately craved at night. He’d give them what Bruce couldn’t ever-

He’d give them closure.

Yes, it was the beginning. And as he clutched Damian tightly, he knew it was the beginning of the end of everything he had ever known.


End file.
